Love Games
by FlintFyre
Summary: It's sixth year, and Harry and Ron are trying to have a normal term. However, an unfortunate accident in the locker room could threaten their friendship. Will it turn into something else, or end it completely? Harry/Ron. Warnings are in the Author's Note.
1. A Little Help

**Author's Note: **Hello! This is one of my first Harry Potter fics that I'm posting. I realize it's quite long, but I do hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Most parts are funny, but there may be some sadness later. Also, there will definitely be some smutty parts once the story gets rolling, so just hang in there! I certainly got all hot and bothered while writing some of them...

Included in this story is sex between two males, some violence, and probably a lot of swearing. And did I say sex?

* * *

><p>"Er, Harry. Little help, mate?"<p>

"Bloody hell!"

Ron stood in the doorway, obviously trying to appear calm but failing. His forearm was exposed due to the sleeve having been torn slightly, and a stream of what was undoubtedly blood trickled down in a spiral, dripping ever-so-gently onto the floor. Harry dropped his Dragonhide gloves, which he had been struggling to get on a second ago. He grabbed his wand off the utility desk and stomped over to the bleeding idiot.

"I told you not to start until I got those things," Harry said, gesturing at the dropped gloves.

Ron laughed breathily, obviously trying not to overreact. "Sprout left the class for a bit, and I can't heal it myself…"

"Well you wouldn't need healing if you'd just stayed away from it like Sprout _told_ us to," Harry took the arm, less gently than was probably desired from Ron, and poked it with his wand. The stream of blood slowly trailed away, revealing the wound more clearly for Harry to see. He grimaced at the slightly grotesque sight. "You probably don't want to – "

Too late. Ron looked down at the cleaned splice to see a few tiny tadpole-like seeds wriggling in what used to be unharmed flesh.

"UGH!" Ron flailed his arm, which Harry held fast.

After a slight struggle and many panicked shouts of disgust from Ron, Harry finally won and forcefully pinned his friend sideways against the utility desk. Apparently Quidditch over all those years paid off. He clawed for a pair of tweezers on the desk, finally reaching them while half-laying on the struggling ginger. Moving Ron's arm in front of him and out of its owner's line of sight, he smacked Ron on the back of the head, panting.

"Stop it! I have to get these out, obviously, and you're just making it worse!" Harry was almost thrown off as Ron violently half-turned to retort.

"Wait! Let me go see Madame Pomfrey!"

"It's just a few seeds!"

"Yeah, but they're _moving_!"

"Well that's what happens when you're stupid and get attacked by a Venomous Tentacula! Do 'venomous' and 'tentacle' not – "

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, what's going on?" Professor Sprout walked in to see Harry gripping Ron's arm and holding it in front of his eyes in concentration, one foot on the back of a chair for leverage. The youngest Weasley brother was in a slightly twisted position, pinned underneath. Her mouth went slightly agape.

"There!" Harry said triumphantly, having taken advantage of the off-guard Weasley and pulled out all four seeds in quick succession. He had dropped them in a small metal dish, where they wriggled grotesquely. "Finished."

"Er…thanks," Ron said sheepishly.

"I think I can take it from here, Mr. Potter," Professor Sprout added, a disapproving tone in her voice.

* * *

><p>"Well, that was interesting," Harry said as they walked out onto the lawns from the greenhouses.<p>

"Got that right," Ron rubbed his newly-healed arm, thanks to the aid of Professor Sprout. Luckily the poison hadn't caused him to scar, seeing as how the brains from the Ministry had already left their mark there last year.

"So, why exactly did you feel the need to deal with the Tentacula yourself?" Harry asked, looking amusedly at Ron.

"I didn't," Ron rolled his eyes, anger following. "Stupid Malfoy thought it would be _hilarious_ to chuck his shears at it when I walked by. Bloody git."

Harry scowled at the ground. It figured Malfoy had something to do with it.

They walked back up the sloping lawns to return to the castle. It was lunch now, and they were both famished. After Ron had been healed and everyone in the class had calmed down, the ensuing wrestle with various tentacles from the plant for the lesson was exhausting. They had collected their designated amount of leaves without any more injuries, though it had come close at one point. If Ron hadn't beaten away one of the appendages with the trowel, Harry would have been suffocated by the one wound securely around his torso.

They both entered the Great Hall and sat at the Gryffindor table. Harry was ready to eat anything, really. He reached for the nearest dish of food, which appeared to be fish fingers, and heaped a large amount onto his plate. Ron was already shoveling in mashed potatoes.

Both of them were able to eat rather savagely, due to the fact that Hermione wasn't with them. She had been diagnosed with a mild case of dragon pox last week after her skin had started to turn a sort of seafoam green color and she developed small pink dots on her arms and neck. Of course, she had insisted on finishing that day's lessons first before leaving for St. Mungo's. Ron had said he had been given the disease when he was three, so he couldn't get it again. He had looked rather worried when Harry said he had never suffered from it, and then proceeded to make Harry sit next to her for the rest of the day.

Harry felt grateful that his skin was not pale green today.

"Whatf dat?" Ron asked, brandishing his potatoey fork at a piece of paper Harry had unearthed from his bag.

"Quidditch schedule," Harry said after swallowing. "I've decided to, you know, print them out now. Here."

Ron smirked, taking the brandished paper. "Thanks Hermione."

"Shut up," Harry mumbled as Ron laughed loudly.

The conversation pretty much ceased from there, due to their attention being returned to their food. Harry had never used to eat so ravenously before. Perhaps he was 'a growing boy', or perhaps he spent a bit too much time around Ron…After all, he never used to swear that much either, but…

"Bollocks," Harry muttered, seeing Malfoy approaching their table. It was no wonder who he was coming to pay a visit to. He never bothered so much with any of the other Gryffindors.

"Well well Potty," came the voice that induced so much hatred. Even if it spoke the sweetest words (which was highly unlikely anyways), it would do nothing to quell the automatic disgust from hearing such a poisonous drawl. "You seem to be booking the pitch a lot lately. Trying to justify the ludicrous change in management? I hear the new captain is quite a nutter."

Harry sighed dramatically as the burly group around Malfoy guffawed. There seemed to be a few larger, less intelligent new recruits in the crowd since last time. However, Crabbe and Goyle were there as always. It seemed that Slytherins could perhaps be loyal after all.

Or just really, really stupid.

"I mean, who would have authorized such a switch anyways?" Malfoy continued, apparently not satisfied with Harry's lack of a response. "Why would you want a captain that, only years ago, couldn't even stay on his own bloody broom?"

"Fuck off Malfoy," Ron gave the generic response before continuing. "In case you haven't noticed, you've never beaten Harry before anyway, so perhaps you should think about not being such a loser before you criticize techniques, big guy."

"I'm not sure I _would _want to beat Potter," Malfoy retorted, crossing his arms and sneering. "I mean, the only person who did was Diggory, and well, we all saw what happened to him."

"Shut the hell up," Harry snarled, standing and whirling around to glare at the blonde demon directly. Ron grimaced, looking foreboding.

"Why don't you make me, Potter?" Malfoy retorted childishly.

"Maybe I will, arse!" Harry clenched his fist, wishing desperately that he could plunge it into Draco's stomach.

"Easy now, Potter. Oh, Weasley, how's your arm?"

Harry made a sort of feral growling noise. The fist, which seemed to have a mind of its own, drew back quickly in preparation to strike.

"Oi!" Ron sad hastily, standing up as well. Harry saw his blue eyes flit up to the staff table, then back to the confrontation at hand. "Why don't we settle this with how it started then, eh? You can just, you know, have it out on the pitch. First to catch the snitch has the most bollocks or whatever."

Malfoy hesitated, which made Harry and Ron give identical smirks. Everyone here knew who the better Seeker was, despite the twinge of guilt Harry felt at thinking so vane. However, his Quidditch record did not lie, and he knew it. Malfoy was clearly not wanting to look weak by declining the challenge, but he also looked to be a bit insecure at the thought of going up against Harry. The question was: would Malfoy take the bruise on his ego now, or later?

"Sounds good to me," Harry said, grinning in a mock pleasantry.

Malfoy glared at the pair of them, his hatred evident. Harry could see the wheels turning frantically in his mind, no doubt trying to find a way out of the situation.

"Seven o'clock," Malfoy huffed stubbornly, and stormed off back to the Slytherin table. Ron let out a breath and grinned at Harry.

"Doesn't stand a chance, mate," Ron said, laughing and shaking his head. They turned around and sat yet again. Perhaps now they could finally eat.

Even though Harry was confident in his abilities to beat Malfoy any day, he still couldn't help but feel nervous. It ate away at him as his fork hovered above his plate, his appetite suddenly less important.

"What if he does though?" Harry said, staring at the glinting utensil in his hand. He would be the laughing stock of the Slytherins if he lost _now_.

Ron dropped his own fork exasperatedly. It clattered to his plate as he turned to Harry and propped his elbow on the table.

"Why would you think that?" he asked, locking his eyes sternly to Harry's.

"Because I suffer from crippling insecurities."

"That's obvious. You shouldn't, Harry, you're so good you were made bloody captain for Merlin's sake!" Ron said, flipping his hand while managing to still lean on the table. Harry forced himself not to blush at the compliment.

"I know, it's just…he's such an arse," Harry said, glaring across the Great Hall. The stupid git's shining hair reflected the light easily. It seemed that no matter what Malfoy did, he was crafted to attract attention in any way possible.

Ron's laugh made Harry smirk slightly.

"Can't argue with you there, mate."


	2. Sorry

"See? I told you," Ron said, clapping his hand on Harry's shoulder. They were covered in mud and still damp from the rain, but the look on Malfoy's face as he was once again bested by the Gryffindor Seeker was priceless.

Ron couldn't help but feel smug about the entire situation. He himself had prevented Harry from getting detention by pounding Malfoy's pretty face into the ground, and instead suggested a little competition. Malfoy and Harry bantering were like two lone kings on a chessboard. There was never any checkmate, but they just moved one square at a time, constantly struggling against each other with no clear winner. But on the pitch, Harry had the obvious advantage.

Instead of a vicious beating, Ron got to see an awesome chase that went nearly all around the pitch. The snitch and Malfoy had both fought valiantly, but as always, Harry prevailed. He felt, personally, that furious disappointment was the only facial expression Draco could wear well.

"I know, I know," Harry said sheepishly. Ron laughed and shook the shorter boy's shoulder before letting go. Always the modesty with Harry. But then, that was what Ron sort of admired about him.

"Ugh, I feel terrible," Ron said, walking over to one of the benches and unbuttoning the muddy robes. They were barely crimson anymore, being wet and caked with dirt.

"I know," Harry agreed. He set the Firebolt on top of the shelves that held their change of clothes.

Ron hesitated when he reached for the clean garments. They looked inviting and blissfully warm, but they certainly wouldn't stay that way if he changed now. His hair was soaking wet from the rain, along with the rest of his body. He also suspected he had mud on his face from where he had occasionally swiped his hair out of his eyes. He sighed, knowing he couldn't put it off.

"I think I'm just gonna shower here, mate," Ron grumbled. He knew feeling clean would be nice once he was done, but all he wanted to do was climb into bed and pass out for a few days. His throat was sore from cheering Harry on and his legs were exhausted from holding himself up on a broom for so long.

"Maybe I will too," Harry said thoughtfully, pulling off his Quidditch boots.

Ron paused only briefly in the process of taking off his t-shirt. His face was hidden due to the fabric pulled over his head, but inside it he showed a look of slight discomfort. Showering in front of his many teammates was one thing. Then, they were all together and joking around, voices reverberating off the tiled walls. But if he and Harry were alone in the very silent changing room, standing naked beside each other, he couldn't help but predict an awkward situation.

However, Harry didn't seem to think so as he began stripping off his clothes very quickly, no doubt in a haste to get to their warm, dry common room. Ron finished pulling the shirt over his head, figuring it would be fine. They had certainly gone through worse things.

"I'll run yours for you," Harry said, trotting away into the shower room. Ron couldn't help but laugh as he looked up to find his best friend's bare arse retreating from him.

Sometimes he wondered if they didn't spend a little _too_ much time together.

Once all of his own offending clothes had been efficiently discarded, he shuffled after Harry, somewhat hesitantly.

As the youngest and therefore least developed of six boys in a household, he had always had reason to be a bit guarded with his body. Teasing about that shit just wasn't funny, no matter how much Fred and George would think it was. Not to mention, when you were one of a family of nine and there were only two bathrooms in the place, privacy was a luxury that was strongly craved by pretty much everyone. Therefore, they left each other alone for the most part. It was probably the only thing that was really agreed upon by everyone (though unspoken of), even mum and dad. However, he suspected that being shoved into a dorm with several boys and also being on the Quidditch team had gotten him used to seeing various naked bodies surrounding him on a daily basis. He wasn't really uncomfortable with it anymore.

It was just, seeing his best mate next to him, where he couldn't divert his attention to other things, seemed like it would be a bit weird. But perhaps he was being paranoid.

He walked in, hearing a nameless tune being hummed which reverberated in the room. Harry grinned sheepishly as Ron raised an eyebrow. At least he wasn't belting out lyrics like Percy did when _he_ showered…

Chuckling, Ron walked under the spray that Harry had started for him already. He groaned slightly, feeling the sharp contrast of the warm water on his shivering body. It felt nice to not be a walking ice cube anymore, and his strained muscles relaxed finally.

"Here, I'm done with it," Harry said, brandishing the 'Sudeazy Hair Potion' bottle at him. Harry always called it 'shampoo' for some reason, which never ceased to confuse him.

"Thanks," Ron said, taking it and pouring some in his palm. He lathered it in his own red hair, feeling the cleansing magic almost immediately. All the grime and rainwater was sucked from his roots and rinsed away as the suds ran down his back and into the drain with the running water. He closed his eyes and stuck his face under the warm flow to wash his skin as well.

Reaching blindly for the body cleansing potion next, he heard Harry chuckle and hand it to him.

While he lathered his body, he was aware of the weird quiet that had descended on them, just like he had predicted. He had to break the tension or it was going to kill him.

"So like, I wonder how Hermione's doing," Ron said, running suds down each of his arms to clean them properly.

"I dunno," Harry replied thoughtfully. He was absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder, and Ron wondered if he had hurt it or something. "What happens when you get Dragon Pox?"

"You just get itchy and feel really uncomfortable," Ron said shrugging. "But when you're older, it's worse for grown-ups."

He spread the lathered potion all over his chest, which still felt cold deep inside despite the warm water. He wished his insides wouldn't feel like he had just flown with the Dementors. Well, Malfoy was close enough, he guessed.

"It's not very serious for _her_, though, is it?" Harry said, a hint of worry making its way into his voice.

"I don't think so," Ron shook his head. "I mean, everybody handles it different, but she's young enough to where she won't have too much to worry about. I'm surprised she even got it at all, really. Remember when that flu thing went around and she was the only one that _didn't_ get ill?"

Everyone had been infected by the magical strain, except for Hermione, that is. Ron figured it was her will to still attend class that had somehow strengthened her immune system to an impossible level. That, or the fact that she had avoided everyone like it was some sort of deadly plague.

"Yeah," Harry said, laughing slightly.

Ron had to admit, somewhat guiltily, that he didn't mind her being gone. It wasn't that he _wanted_ her gone, it was that he had recently enjoyed spending so much time with his best friend. No waiting to go to breakfast while she did her makeup, they didn't have to debate who would split off when they had to make partners in class, and both of them could eat like pigs and not be chastised. Plus, the nagging had gone down drastically. It was a life any boy could dream of. But of course, he still missed her and wished her well.

Damn his stupid caring side.

"I'm gonna go get dressed," Harry's voice cut into his thoughts.

"Sure," Ron said, nodding. As Harry turned away and left, Ron quickly washed his more 'intimate' areas and rinsed off the remainder of the suds. Sighing contentedly, he turned off the magical tap and reached out to grab his towel.

Which was on the bench outside the showers.

He sighed again. He would have to stroll out now, completely exposed, wagging everything in plain sight. Merlin.

So he did just that, not wanting to be so afraid of his best friend. Again, they had been through worse.

Or perhaps not.

Due to his lack of a towel, Ron's feet and the remainder of his body were soaking wet. He supposed he should have seen it coming, really, knowing his great luck and fantastic coordination. But fate was a cruel bitch that just seemed to have it out for him.

He slipped on the hardwood floor of the changing room and wobbled erratically. Ron tried to save himself by reaching out for a shelf, a bench, anything, but his flailing only made him slip further and jolt sideways, crashing into something.

Something soft, and equally naked.

Harry landed hard beneath him, and it sounded as though the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. He gasped painfully when Ron landed on top of him. Ron's arms caught himself before he could land completely on top of the other boy, but his legs gave out when he crashed to the floor.

He just prayed to god that perhaps, in the two seconds he had been gone, that Harry had put on underwear or something. _Something_.

But by the feel of it, his legs having landed in an unfortunate straddling position on the poor raven-haired boy, there was nothing beneath him but what must have been a very surprised, very bare, cock. One besides his own, that is.

It seemed like the horror, which far outweighed the pain of falling, lasted forever. All he could do was open his eyes and stare into the very wide, surprised emerald orbs below him. His mouth opened and he tried to make a noise, but even that failed him. All he could think was that he was sitting atop his friend, naked, hips touching (among other things). It was so alarming that it negated every move his brain tried to make.

The silence was deafening.

Finally, after what felt like eternity, his brain kicked into action. He stood up faster than he ever had in his life, probably some sort of record. Harry continued to lay there though, his limp body providing the horrible evidence of what had just happened.

"Sorry," Ron said. His face burned like the gates of hell, which would have been a preferable location compared to this place right now. Anywhere but in an abandoned locker room where he had technically just assaulted his best friend of six years or so. Fighting the urge to bolt out of the room and just run into the forest, Ron offered his hand to help him up.

"It's okay," Harry said in the same expressionless tone. He took the hand, somewhat limply, and clambered to his feet. The shock was clearly affecting him too.

They stood there, and Ron saw a flush begin to cross Harry's cheeks. This was serious, because he wasn't sure if he had ever seen Harry blush before, let alone so deeply. The guy could handle anything.

Except being straddled by a naked man, it seemed.

"I'm gonna get dressed," Harry said yet again that evening, ducking his head to hide his crimson face. Ron nodded numbly and heard him pad away in the direction of their clothes.

* * *

><p>Ron flopped onto his bed, burying his face into the pillow immediately.<p>

_Stupid clumsy fucking idiot fuck!_

His curtains were drawn around his bed, and he was thankful that Harry wasn't trying to talk about what had happened. They had walked up to the castle silently, Ron still reeling from the incident.

Pretend it never happened. That was all they had to do. Easy, right?

He was fucked. There was no forgetting it. Even the strongest memory charm wouldn't be able to burn away the fact that Ron had just involuntarily yet thoroughly felt his best friend's cock against his own. No one could forget that shit.

He heard Harry flop down on his own bed as well.

They were both exhausted from practice, that was for sure, but the added little episode afterward was what had really taken Ron's energy. The sheer panic and embarrassment, Harry's soft reassurances that it was okay, and the later avoidance of eye contact between them had all been very awkward. Of course it was neither of their faults, but it had still happened. Nothing could really undo it.

He closed his eyes tightly, willing his face to quit burning with humiliation. He could only imagine how Harry felt.

But then, he knew how Harry _felt_, didn't he? He had been pressed up against that slick, naked body, feeling places Ron was pretty sure no one but Harry had ever explored. Hell, he wasn't even sure about _that_. Harry never really talked about 'taking care of needs' or anything. Maybe he was one of those people that just…didn't, or whatever.

Ron snorted humorlessly. He couldn't imagine such a life.

But now it wasn't the embarrassment that was worrying him. It was the fact that his mind was lingering a bit too much on how that body felt beneath him.

To his horror, he felt a stiffening under his sheets. Between his legs, where Harry had been only moments ago, he was getting hard. After the initial shock, Ron closed his eyes, fighting the thoughts away.

_You're not like that…_ he reassured himself, clutching the pillow tightly.

It was because of the friction, that was all. He had learned long ago that contact anywhere near that intimate place, despite the situation, was bound to get a reaction. Hell, he had even been hard at a wedding once during the summer when he was twelve.

He shouldn't jump to conclusions and assume that he was some sort of pervert. After all, he hadn't masturbated in a week and he _had_ just rubbed his naked cock against something.

But still, that 'something' had been his best friend. What kind of monster was he?


	3. Knew It

Harry lay awake in bed, staring up at the canopy of his four-poster. He couldn't help but reflect on the fact that, only a few minutes ago, he had been lying in this exact position on the floor of the changing room, looking up into large, bright blue eyes.

He had also been feeling a very strange sensation of skin-on-skin in a place that hadn't ever felt anything but his own hand before. To say that he was shocked was an understatement.

Afterward, Ron had blushed crimson and apologized. Harry doubted he would have been able to do more than that if he were in the same shoes (figuratively), so he tried to reassure him as best he could.

Harry knew it was awkward, and that Ron was desperately trying to forget the whole thing. To tell the truth, he wished to do the same. However, no damage had been done, no bones broken or blood spilled. It had all turned out okay, and no one died. These days, anything short of that was a blessing.

He felt a nagging feeling that he was missing something important, however, but that was probably just his reaction to having been knocked to the ground by a naked person of the same sex as himself. Harry wasn't sure he really _could_ miss anything important. It was that, plain and simple.

He turned over onto his side, suddenly uncomfortable with lying on his back. In the morning, he would pretend everything was normal and that would be that.

* * *

><p>It was the birds that had woken him up. There were downsides to having your sleeping quarters located in a very high tower. One of them was that you could hear the wind during storms or gusty days. The other was the fucking birds.<p>

Harry sighed sleepily. He rolled over, cracking his eyes open to squint at the clock on his nightstand. His hopes that he could go back to sleep were quashed when he saw that it was nearly noon.

Sighing again, he sat up and rubbed his eyes. Harry looked around and saw that everyone else had long vacated their beds. Except for a certain redhead, of course, who he could see lying on his stomach through a gap in the red curtains.

Harry felt a slight warmth spread on his cheeks again as he recalled last night. However, he was determined to get over it and act normal again.

"Ron," Harry said, his voice rough with sleep.

"Five more minutes," Ron mumbled, turning over and ruffling his sheets into a mess.

"Wake up, mate," Harry said, a bit more firmly as he regained mobility. He stumbled out of his bed in an undignified manner, shoving his glasses onto his face. He heard snores coming from the bed next to him and rolled his emerald eyes exasperatedly.

Ron groaned and evaded his hand, which was now shaking him in order to coax him out of bed.

"Ron, it's almost lunch time already," Harry pressed.

With an annoyed huff, the redhead finally sat up. Most likely not out of obedience, but in the prospect of food.

They dressed silently, still trying to recover from the exhaustion of yesterday. Practice had been hard, and Harry had then been made to compete with Malfoy afterward, further tiring him and drawing their activities late into the night. He wasn't surprised he had slept so late. Ron was able to because…well…Harry doubted if Ron would _ever_ wake up if he wasn't there to see to it.

Harry wore a simple t-shirt and jeans, despite the bitter cold outside today. He had no intentions of going outdoors this evening. It was Saturday, for crying out loud.

After locating his wand on the bedside table and shoving it into his back pocket (despite Moody's orders), he turned to see Ron staring at him.

"What?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Ron turned quickly, picking up his own wand and heading towards the door.

Both of them had eaten a large amount of food during lunch, having missed breakfast already. Well, they didn't want to starve, did they?

Then later, both boys wandered back up to the common room. Neville was lounging in one of the chairs by the fire, which was crackling merrily. He had a book held almost to his nose, reading intently.

"Hey Neville," Harry said, flopping back into a chair beside him. Ron sat on the floor and pulled out a deck of exploding snap cards.

"Hi," Neville replied, looking up. "You two going today?"

"To what?" Ron asked, gingerly removing the cards from the box. One wrong move…

"Hogsmeade," Neville said, quirking an eyebrow at them. "Don't tell me you've forgotten…"

Harry groaned and nodded. If _Neville _had remembered and _they _hadn't, something was seriously wrong in the world. Although, to be fair, they didn't have Hermione around to remind them of everything constantly.

"Oh, yeah," Ron said sheepishly. He put the cards back in his pocket and leaned against Harry's chair, checking his watch. "It's almost time to go, too. Good thing you reminded us, Nev."

"No problem," Neville said, chuckling slightly as he looked down at his book again. "I only remembered because…er…" his cheeks turned slightly pink as he trailed off.

"What?" Harry asked, grinning.

"I sort of have a date," his reply was muffled as he hid behind the book.

Harry and Ron both made noises of approval.

"Well, go on mate, who is it?" Ron pressed, leaning in.

Neville dropped the book, looking embarrassed but pleased at the same time. He couldn't quite hide his smile as he mumbled, "Luna."

"Knew it," Ron said, laughing.

"Only, I hope that, you know, you don't mind, Harry," he said tentatively, looking a bit frightened.

"What?" Harry asked, confused.

"Well, I know you went with her to Slughorn's party…"

"Oh, no," Harry said, sighing in relief. "That was just as friends. I figured, you know, all the other harpies were closing in on me, and she doesn't go out or have fun much…"

"But someone'll change that soon, eh?" Ron said, nudging Neville in the side with his elbow.

"Hopefully," Neville said, chuckling again. "It'll definitely be interesting, that's for sure…"

"What are you gonna do?" Harry asked. The only real date he had been on was…well…

"I thought we might…er…you know, go to shops and then maybe the Three Broomsticks or something," Neville replied, looking at them for their approval.

Ron nodded, "Sounds good to me, mate."

"Don't go to Madame Puddifoots," Harry said absentmindedly, lost in his own horrible recollections.

"Alright, well, we better go before this one starts getting flashbacks," Ron said, standing and dragging Harry out of the armchair.

Neville called his farewell, saying he might see them later on. Harry ran up to the boys' dorm to get a hooded sweatshirt, which he zipped up hastily before returning to join Ron. He knew the weather was brutal outside, and he was already somewhat dreading the trip.

However, the Hogsmeade visit had gone pretty well. While it was cold and windy, they stayed inside shops mostly and only sometimes ventured out into the cobblestone street if they felt like visiting another part of the village. By the time they headed into the Three Broomsticks, both of them had various bags full of goods, most of which were against the rules to possess. Filch was in for a few surprises this week.

They had also selected a 'get well' card for Hermione in a shop called 'Purtige's Parchment For All Occasions'. The two had been extremely entertained by the task of picking out the card that was most obnoxious. It had come close between one that sang loudly while emitting tiny bubbles and one that had a dancing Hippogriff on the cover while spouting confetti, but then the witch at the front desk offered to take their picture and put it inside the singing one for a few extra Knuts, to which Harry and Ron eagerly agreed. Each of them had also bought her a box of chocolate-covered Ice Mice in Honeydukes, which were her favorite.

"Do you recon they'll take the card away after it annoys everybody else?" Harry asked as he tied the parcel containing the Ice Mice to a fidgety owl.

"Probably," Ron said, shrugging. "But only after a few hours, you'd think."

They looked down at the card as Ron opened it. It sang, bubbles flew out, and the picture of them laughing hysterically was visible all at once. They imitated their picture, laughing some more, before Ron finally tucked it into the string holding the parcel to the impatient owl. Ron checked it to make sure that it wouldn't open during flight and Harry paid at the front desk before he could protest. They had ordered an express owl to insure that she got the package that evening, which was more expensive.

So here they sat, in the Three Broomsticks, currently looking over the tops of their butterbeers in order to hopefully catch a glimpse of Luna and Neville.

"I don't see them, do you?" Harry asked as he nonchalantly sipped his. The warmth almost immediately washed through his body, making him feel content.

"No," Ron said, sounding disappointed.

"Is that a really good thing, or a really bad thing?" Harry wondered out loud. They gave each other a look, and then tried to stifle their laughter.

When their butterbeer had long run out and the windows began to turn darker, the two decided that they should head back up to the castle. They dragged themselves all the way back up the path in the wind, lugging shopping bags with them. The warmth of the bustling common room was greatly welcomed.

Harry felt glad that, despite what had happened the previous night, Ron wasn't embarrassed anymore. He knew that since they could battle the forces of evil and face death together, their friendship wouldn't be tainted over a little awkward situation. Hogsmeade had been fun, and Ron had acted the same as he always did.

Harry had gone to bed after having been thoroughly defeated in an intense game of chess. Ron said that he would stay down and wait to ambush Neville about the date, but Harry was too tired from the long day, and perhaps the butterbeer. He quickly changed and lay down in his nice warm bed, falling asleep before anyone else had even made it upstairs.

* * *

><p><em>Harry walked through the dark room, stumbling occasionally, wondering why the hell it was so black. He didn't know where he was, or even how he got here.<em>

"_Hello?" he asked into the darkness. He fought to keep the uncertainty out of his voice, in case there was someone nearby. Maybe it was a trap?_

_Harry fought to stay calm as various possibilities flew through his mind. Had he been captured in his sleep? Was he being put through some weird test? Was Voldemort waiting behind a corner, ready to end his life with a muttered spell and a flash of green light?_

"_Ouch!" Harry gasped, feeling his shoulder collide against something. His arm flew out to grab it, in case someone had hit him or was attempting to overpower him. No, it was quite solid, not a weapon of any sort. Perhaps a Bookcase? Was this the library?_

_He felt around on the wooden surface, trying to get some indication as to where the hell he was. Ah, it was certainly a shelf of some sort. He could feel a cloth or something resting in one of the cubby holes. Wait, what was that? It felt quite similar to the wrist guards he was required to wear for Quidditch…_

"_What the hell?" he said aloud to himself. It was when he heard the breathing that he realized he was not alone._

"_Harry?" he heard his best friend's call, sounding just as unsure as he felt._

"_Ron? Where are you?" Harry said, putting his hands out to blunder through the darkness._

"_Hang on, I think the light…oh, this is stupid," Ron mumbled. "Lumos!"_

"_Ah," Harry said, seeing a wand tip ignite a few feet from him._

"_Thought I'd lost you, mate," Ron grinned, his blue eyes sparkling in the close light. Harry looked around and realized they were in the changing room._

_Ron moved forward, and Harry suddenly got a strange feeling. Like something was going to happen that he was greatly anticipating, yet dreading at the same time. When Ron reached a comfortable distance, Harry noticed that he did not, in fact, stop there. He walked right up to Harry, standing so close that he could feel the breath on his skin. At such a close distance, Harry noticed the look on his face. It was different than usual. Not confused anymore, but almost…hungry. Harry looked up at him tentatively, wondering what was going on._

_Then, suddenly, he felt the wall against his back and lips on his own. He gasped, but it was lost in the other's mouth. Harry heard the wand clatter to the floor and the light was suddenly gone again, leaving them in semi-darkness._

_The surprise made it so that he couldn't move. Harry stood stiffly in the embrace, able to see Ron's features due to them being so close and his eyes being so wide with shock. A tongue pushed past his lips and into his mouth, claiming it almost forcefully and exploring it with vigor, to which Harry numbly submitted. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, and he could even feel himself beginning to relax. Almost of its own accord, his tongue began to work against the foreign one._

_Ron's mouth moved to his neck, sucking noises being heard and then lost to the large room. He could feel hands gripping his hips, moving him impossibly closer, caressing the skin where his shirt rode up. Harry moaned slightly, feeling a tingle in his stomach. Excitement, pleasure._

_He wanted this._

_His arms wound around Ron's broad back. Ron was becoming more aggressive in his movements, sucking harder and even biting the soft skin on his neck. Harry could feel hands on his jeans, but he couldn't bring himself to ask Ron to stop. He should have been pushing him away, saying he was his friend. They would never do this if they were friends, would they?_

_No, they wouldn't._

_But Harry just sighed into the dark, empty room, feeling the button on his jeans pop open._

"_Yeah," he said breathlessly, egging him on._

_Ron pulled the zipper down one-handed and Harry felt the other hand on the nape of his neck. The short, wild black hair there stuck up in the back, almost as if it were reaching for his touch._

_Harry whined as he felt the hand slip into his trousers and close around his cock. It felt good, so much different than his own touch. Not hurried while in a shower, or shamefully in his bed. It was hot and slow, like Ron wanted it to last._

"_Mmm," Harry hummed, turning his head as Ron continued to work his length and nip at his neck._

_Ron grunted softly against his skin, pushing closer to him._

"_Don't stop, Ron," Harry said desperately, now pushing his hips forward a little to meet the slow strokes of his strong hand. His view of slightly wild ginger hair was cut off as he closed his eyes in pleasure._

"_Oh," Harry gasped, feeling a burning in his groin._

"_Harry," Ron breathed against his ear, undoing him completely._

_His hips thrust forward, seeking that glorious friction. He was so close…_

* * *

><p>Harry woke suddenly, panting and clutching the sheets beneath him. He could feel a slight sheen of sweat covering him, accompanied by an overwhelming sense of guilt as he realized what he had just dreamt of.<p>

Ron. Doing unspeakable things to his body.

His best friend. _Male_ best friend…

After staring up at the canopy and contemplating this in horror, he realized that he absolutely didn't want to look down. He could feel it, the wetness covering his lower half, and he didn't want to confirm what he already knew. It was shameful enough without having to see it.

However, without his consent, his eyes lowered their gaze to his pyjama bottoms, finding them to be soaked with the results of what must have been a very powerful orgasm.

Harry closed his eyes tightly, willing it away. He slowly released the sheets to relax his aching hands and tried to calm his breathing.

He looked to the side, shame burning in his cheeks, even though no one was there to convict him. It didn't matter. Harry knew what he had dreamt. He knew that his innocent, normal _friend_ had just apparently stroked him to completion without even knowing it. Obviously, Harry _had _overlooked something. Something…important.


	4. Sleep Well?

Ron sighed in relief. He had been worried that, after last night, Harry would be angry or embarrassed and not want to be friends anymore. However, the day had gone by just like most other Hogsmeade weekends, in exception to ones where they were organizing illegal gatherings or secretly hearing about the death of Harry's parents from their teachers.

They had even bought Hermione some gifts in an attempt to lift her spirits. She wasn't upset that she was sick, of course, but rather that she wasn't able to keep up with her schoolwork.

After no one in the common room accepted his open challenge for a game of chess, Ron huffed in disappointment. Everyone had long since found out that he was invincible. There was also no sign of Neville. He decided that, even though he wasn't tired, perhaps he could go to bed and read his Quidditch magazine, have some chocolate frogs, and, if he still had the energy, a wank.

He packed up the abused chess pieces and placed them on the table for anyone else to use if they wished. Ron then took the stairs two at a time, his long legs making it more than easy for him.

When he entered the dorm, he could hear Harry's deep breathing, signifying that he was asleep. Ron had always noticed that Harry seemed to be strangely elegant in many ways, without even trying. He didn't snore, his face never had a single blemish, and he was always putting things back in order to how he found them (though Ron suspected that was probably burned into his disposition by those horrible muggles he lived with).

But then, there were things about Harry that were cool too. Like his crazy hair. Ron always laughed when Harry complained about it, but the truth was that his best friend would probably look very strange if it ever _did_ lay down and submit to the comb. Many of the boys at Hogwarts actually _try _to get such a 'just got out of bed' look, but no one could pull it off as well as Harry.

Ron shook his head, realizing the dreamy tone to his thoughts. There was something seriously wrong with him.

For instance, this morning, as Harry was changing into his clothes for the day, Ron had found himself staring at the smooth skin of his best mate. He had watched the lean muscles contract and ripple with the movement of Harry's arms, back, and shoulders, almost as if in a trance. A flash of seeing him naked, laying on the wooden floor of the changing room had appeared before his eyes before he ashamedly pulled himself back to reality.

Grumbling to himself in order to get his head straight, Ron pulled on pyjamas and fell into bed.

But unfortunately, the rustle of his sheets wasn't enough to hide the small moan that came from the bed next to him. He looked up to see Harry's curtains only half drawn, with the raven-haired boy visible, lying on his stomach amongst a tangle of sheets and blankets. His face was slightly flushed, and the heavy breaths he was emitting gave Ron a dangerous feeling.

He blushed slightly and looked away from his friend.

"Yeah…"

Ron's eyes snapped back over almost immediately. He could see Harry's mouth open slightly as he panted in his sleep. His arm slid from the bed, hanging over the edge. It swayed momentarily, then ceased movement. Long black lashes fanned over smooth, pink cheeks as Harry spoke in his sleep.

_Stop looking at him, you pervert!_ Ron screamed inside his head. It was wrong. He shouldn't be thinking these things about his friend. He shouldn't find that breathless tone of voice so appealing.

"Mmm," Harry hummed, making Ron stare more intently.

He was obviously having some sort of wet dream. No one sounded that erotic during a normal REM cycle.

This was private. Ron should turn away, save himself and Harry the embarrassment. Perhaps even leave.

Harry clutched at the sheets beneath him, whining softly. Ron realized that he too was breathing heavily. Despite his own voice yelling obscenities at himself, Ron stayed. He was horrible…

His best friend was having some dream, pleasuring some girl or whatever. It was his business, not Ron's. He felt sick when a twinge of jealousy shot through him as he wondered who it was Harry was 'with'.

"Don't stop, Ron," Harry said breathily against his pillow.

The shock that radiated through him would have stilled a charging Bicorn. He groaned, seeing Harry's hips moving against the bed in a desperate attempt to get friction.

Harry turned quickly in his sleep, making Ron freeze in panic. His eyes remained closed, so he must have still been asleep, but the feverish thrusting of his hips continued. Ron wondered what it would be like to be on top of him while he did _that…_

"Oh," Harry gasped, turning his head wildly.

Ron bit his lower lip, staring. The fact that it was creepy wasn't even a hindrance anymore.

Harry cried out softly, gripping the bedding and stilling his hips. Ron didn't doubt what had just happened. In fact, he was sure Harry had just come.

He felt as though he had just had the workout of his life, and that was just by watching.

Ron panicked as he saw Harry's eyes open. He quickly shut his own, not wanting to be caught in the act of drooling over the raunchy display.

He feigned sleep as he contemplated what exactly this all meant. Harry had called out his name, so that meant he was clearly involved somehow. In fact, it sounded as though he was doing a good job, since Harry had told him to not stop.

Ron gulped nervously, feeling his own arousal. He wondered exactly when his raging hard-on had formed.

He would be lying (and in fact _had_ been for a day now) if he said he wasn't thinking more-than-friendly thoughts about Harry. Apparently Harry was too, by the sound of it. Ever since the changing room, Ron had been noticing things about Harry that were definitely not simple admiration. Perhaps he had been noticing them for a while now. Maybe he was only…_aware_ of noticing them this time.

Either way, his cock was making it very adamant at who its attention was focused on.

Shamefully, he reached down and took himself in hand.

_There's no avoiding it now, _he thought grudgingly as he stroked his own cock.

As much as he had tried to avoid it, the thought of Harry, gasping and moaning into his pillow, was what had finally brought him to orgasm.

* * *

><p>Ron opened his eyes to see the morning light streaming in through the windows.<p>

"Oh no…" he groaned, not wanting to face the obvious problem before him. He didn't know what to do about this, and he certainly didn't know what to tell Harry.

Did he tell him he knew? Would Harry get angry at the fact that Ron had stayed and observed his private moment? Would Harry say that he wasn't even dreaming about Ron?

He knew _that_ was bullshit. How many girls were named 'Ron', anyway?

He also didn't know exactly how he himself felt. His own attraction at watching a gasping, sweaty, aroused member of the same sex clearly meant that he had a few things to sort out.

Ron had never really confronted the possibility of being gay. Not that many people were, that he knew personally. It had always just seemed the normal thing to him to assume he was straight. He had no one to turn to, no one to ask about this. For once, like Harry, he was on his own.

He didn't even know how his parents would react. And the school? Malfoy would undoubtedly have an early Christmas present if this got out. He hung his head at the breakfast table, mortified at the mere thought. Harry was avoiding his eyes, of course, even though they were sitting opposite each other. The Great Hall was filled with happy students, enjoying their Sunday morning. Oblivious to his inner turmoil.

But he couldn't just leave this alone. Now that he realized it, he never really considered dating the opposite sex either. Aside from Fleur, who seemed able to charm anyone but females and Harry, girls had seemed…uninteresting.

He stared blankly ahead, wondering how on earth he hadn't realized this before.

But no, that wasn't entirely true, was it? He remembered, once or twice, during their rows that shook the common room, feeling something in the ways of attraction for Hermione. Perhaps he was bisexual?

He wondered if he had ever landed atop Hermione naked, seen her have an intense sex dream, and then proceeded to pleasure himself to images of her in the throws of imaginary passion?

Ron couldn't recall such a situation.

His cheeks burned as he stared at his toast. For the first time in his life, he wasn't hungry.

He couldn't go on like this. He had to do something. Perhaps if he tested the waters, he could see if Harry was going to blow up at the situation, or accept it for what it was. Ron was fairly certain that last night proved he wasn't the only one with unclean thoughts running through his mind…

"So, did you sleep well?" Ron asked boldly, though feeling as if his stomach were actually a bag of rocks.

Harry's face tinted, and Ron couldn't help feel a bit of satisfaction. Harry was attractive when he blushed.

"Er…yeah. You?" his friend said, trying to create a brave stance. Their eyes locked, but he could see Harry wavering. His green orbs shone from the light of the windows. He was a bad liar.

"Yeah," Ron said, staring right back. For some wild reason, he felt the need to press it. "I thought I heard something though. Did you have another dream again?"

Harry's eyes widened and he coughed. Ron had to try very hard not to laugh.

"Y-yes, actually. Just a nightmare, though."

His voice was shaky, for the strength from it had vanished almost completely. Harry took a large gulp from his pumpkin juice.

"Really? What was it about?" Ron pretended to inquire.

Now he was just being evil.

"Er…Voldemort. Who else?" Harry laughed nervously, taking another long pull from the goblet. Well, he seemed thirsty today.

Ron nodded, concealing his excitement.

The fact that Harry was hiding it from him guaranteed that it was a naughty dream. He pretty much knew this already, but there was always a chance. Now, however, it was as clear as glass.

He let it go, though, for now. He didn't want to tell Harry he knew just yet. He would wait. Perhaps wait and see if Harry came to him first, or at least until they were alone. Ron knew that he wouldn't be able to hide his own attraction for long. He just hoped that Harry would feel the same way about all this, and not punch him in the face if he tried to confront him with this whole problem. At least tormenting him with the questions was fun.

He sat quietly and drank his orange juice, letting Harry's cheeks return to a normal hue.

An owl dropped between them, staring up at Ron expectantly. He looked over at Harry.

"Is this the owl we sent to Hermione?"

Harry nodded, looking down at it.

Ron reached forward and untied the envelope from the owl's leg. It hooted in acknowledgement, then took off suddenly and up through the ceiling. He ripped the St. Mungo's seal and pulled out the neatly scrawled letter. Ron read it aloud so that Harry could hear:

_Dear Harry and Ron,_

_I wanted to thank you for the lovely Ice Mice you sent me! They were quite adorable, until I ate them, of course. The food here isn't quite up to Hogwarts standards, if you ask me. I also wanted to thank you for the card. I was able to enjoy it for most of the day. They took it away, however, as the singing and bubbles were distracting the healer next to me who was trying to unwrap Mrs. Dougal's bandages._

_The healers say that I can come back to school on Tuesday, in which case I'll be glad to get back to classes. I probably have so much work to do!_

_Anyways, I will most certainly be grateful to be out of here. If you want, you can meet me at the front doors at 4:00PM on Tuesday evening. Otherwise, I'm sure I can find my way up to the common room. See you both soon!_

_Hermione_

"She sounds well," Harry said when he had finished. Ron nodded, setting the letter aside.

"Tuesday, huh?" Ron said, looking back down at his toast. He hadn't thought of Hermione's whole opinion on this…

"Yeah," Harry said, grinning slightly. "We should tell everyone to throw a party. You know, embarrass her and everything…"

Ron laughed. "Yeah, alright."

They both knew exactly what her reaction would be. She would pretend to be annoyed, but secretly love it and be thankful for the attention. Usually, the only attention she got was for being the lone person who got the glory of answering questions correctly in class.

"Sounds like she liked the card, too," Harry said, looking at the letter. They both cracked up, imagining bubbles and loud singing reverberating throughout the ward.

Ron looked over at Harry, who was smiling now and eating his eggs with a renewed vigor. For some reason, he felt a pang of uneasiness.

What if Harry _didn't_ feel the same way?


	5. A Bit Queer

The rest of the day passed awkwardly and as slowly as possible, much to Harry's discomfort. He glared down at his book, wishing that for once his life would be easy.

But no. As always, fate felt the need to deal him an exceptionally hard blow below the belt. One that went straight to his dick.

That blow was in the form of attraction to his once best friend. He knew 'once' was correct because, as soon as Ron found out, he would surely shove Harry away in disgust, never to be friends again.

He looked up pleadingly to the ceiling, questioning what he had ever done to deserve such horrible treatment from whatever deity lorded over him. He would think that taking his parents and making every other moment of his life hell was payment well enough. Now he had to throw hormones and sexual confusion into the mix?

Couldn't he just masturbate to images of slutty girls like any other normal boy?

But again, no. He had to have erotic dreams about his male best friend, the one who had innocently stood by him through many years filled with unimaginable horrors. He wondered briefly if Ron would have still sat with him on the train if Harry had informed him that he would be forced to fight giant chess pieces, Acromantulas, snakes, Dementors, Voldemort, Death Eaters, and, eventually, Harry's own sexual desires?

He doubted it.

"You okay, Harry? You look ill…"

"I'm fine," Harry said, his voice shaky.

Neville was sitting next to him on the crimson sofa. He hadn't even noticed him sit down.

"You sure?" Neville inquired, looking worried.

"Yeah. So, how was your date?" Harry changed the subject, trying desperately not to lose his cool. There were people…

"Oh," Neville looked away, obviously trying to hide a grin. "It went okay."

"We didn't see you in the Three Broomsticks. Everything went alright?" Harry pressed.

"Yeah, yeah. We, er, came back to the castle a bit late," Neville blushed slightly.

"Ah," Harry said knowingly. He smirked and turned back to his book, saving Neville any more embarrassment. He also wasn't sure if he wanted to hear about Luna's snogging abilities.

They sat there in silence now, Harry still reeling from his discovery.

Obviously, he found Ron more attractive than he initially realized. After all, he wasn't blind. He always knew Ron was handsome. Harry had seen those generous muscles at a very close proximity already in the showers. And sure, his lean body and long legs were pretty good looking. His smooth, sculpted face had a small dusting of freckles that Harry supposed were cute as well.

His cheeks burned and he slumped further into the sofa, wishing it would take mercy and just swallow him completely. His emerald eyes slowly traveled up to rest on the object of his affections, which was currently joking around and wrestling animatedly with Dean halfway across the room.

How he wished he were Dean just then.

Ron's slightly large shoulder muscles rippled beneath his tight t-shirt, making Harry blush harder. Thank god he had _Quidditch Cultures in the Late 1800's_ to hide his face with, or he would have to feign a stomach cramp to get out of here quickly.

His gaze, despite his mental protests to stop, continued to roam over the struggling pair. Ron's jeans were hugging his hips in a particularly sinful way. Harry shuddered as he watched creepily for several minutes. When had he become so predatory?

Having had enough, Harry said he was going to bed. He barely made eye contact with Ron as he waved and said goodnight, in which Ron and Dean paused briefly to wave before returning to their mock fight. Ron's face had been flushed, his body slightly sweaty.

Harry flopped into bed after having brushed his teeth and changed into pyjama bottoms. He didn't even bother putting on a shirt. It would undoubtedly take him a few minutes to cool off.

* * *

><p>The next two days passed in pretty much the same fashion. However, Harry did have classes to occupy his mind, so he wasn't constantly in discomfort. Unfortunately, a few erections a day was something that took a lot of energy out of you.<p>

"Good Christ," Harry muttered angrily, adjusting himself when no one was looking for about the hundredth time. It was lunch, and Ron had finished his meal already. Some House-Elf that clearly had it out for him had come up with the brilliant idea to send up peppermint sticks in preparation for the upcoming holidays, no doubt. One of the small jars sat next to Ron's plate, and everything within reach of Ron was going to get sampled, at least.

The sucking noises brought Harry's mind forcefully back to his dream, and seeing Ron's pink lips slide over the red-and-white candy wasn't making his survival any easier.

"Toilet," Harry said, standing abruptly. He couldn't believe he was going to do this, but there was no way he was going to make it the rest of the day if shit like this kept happening.

Ron looked up innocently, his lips smacking as he pulled the peppermint stick from his mouth. Harry groaned internally.

"Okay," he replied, looking a bit worried. Harry probably looked a mess, but he couldn't deal with that right now.

He needed a bathroom, desperately.

"Oh," Harry moaned, finally feeling his own hand on his cock. It ached with need.

His palm slammed up against the side of the stall he was barricaded in as his legs spread wide in order to ground himself. He leaned his head back, pumping himself.

Harry just wanted it to be over so he could get back to his life. Do it, then get out.

He whimpered slightly as his mind came back to Ron. He could feel that cock sliding against his own, just as it had in the changing room that night, only he imagined it stiff and equally eager like his own, pushing against him, hard and wanting. Perhaps even…inside him.

Harry paused, shocked at his own suggestion. He wondered what it would be like, having sex with another male. His immediate thought was painful, but he knew that people did it. There were such a thing as gay couples, so it couldn't have been _all_ bad.

He tried to imagine the feeling. Ron above him, all flushed and sweaty, muscles tensing with the effort of pushing into him again and again.

Harry felt the back of his head hit the wall. He grunted softly, closing his eyes, once again letting his imagination take control.

"_You like that, Harry?"_

"_Uhh…yes!"_

_Ron placing his large hands on his hips to steady him while being fucked hard. His arse being used for Ron's pleasure while hands begin to run all over his body. One comes to rest on his cock, the other tangling in his hair. Ron shoves his tongue deep into Harry's mouth as his hand begins to stroke up and down, in rhythm with his hips thrusting forward._

"Fuck!" Harry cried breathlessly, coming into his own hand. Waves of ecstasy washed over him as his seed emptied, running from his fingers. He stared at the ceiling while his orgasm subsided.

When it was finally over, Harry leaned back against the stall, panting heavily.

Yet again, the final feeling of release and relaxation was accompanied by guilt. Ron didn't know it, but he was becoming quite a stud.

Harry's face burned with shame as he siphoned away the unholy evidence with his wand. His best friend would undoubtedly never speak to him if he found out the kind of thoughts Harry had entertained recently. He had to stop this. Either get over it, or just never make eye contact with Ron again.

He didn't think he could avoid Ron, even if he tried.

* * *

><p>"You okay, mate?" Ron asked, looking amused.<p>

Harry had stumbled hurriedly into Transfiguration, apologizing profusely to Professor McGonagall. He supposed there were some upsides to being the 'Chosen One', for she just shook her head at him disapprovingly. If anyone else had tried arriving to her class three minutes late, they would have undoubtedly lost house points. At least.

She pretended to be all strict, but really, Harry was glad he was her favorite.

"As I was saying, the key to trans-species transfiguration is that you must concentrate on the…" she continued.

"I'm fine," Harry replied irritably. Ron looked like he was going to ask what had happened, but when Harry threw him a scathing look, he seemed to decide otherwise.

Harry pulled out some parchment and began taking notes.

He had to talk to somebody, _anybody_, about this. It was getting out of hand. Harry didn't doubt that Ron was one hundred percent straight, seeing as how he and Hermione were destined to be together. Their constant quarreling was a sure sign, since they already acted like a married couple. He sighed in defeat. He was hopeless.

As usual.

* * *

><p>"Mate, are you…er…okay?" Ron asked. Harry winced, because the obvious pity and concern stabbed at him like a blade.<p>

What was he supposed to say?

_Why yes Ron, except for the mere fact that you've been doing exceptionally naughty things to me within the confines of my own mind. Don't worry, though. I'll just continue to leer at you behind books and around corners. I won't actually throw you down and shove my tongue down your throat like I really want to._

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"I dunno, you seem to be acting a bit queer lately."

Harry's eyes shot open. He could have sworn he saw the corners of Ron's mouth twitch, but perhaps it was his own paranoia.

"N-no, I'm fine," Harry choked out. He prayed to whatever God (the one that was showing a real sense of humor) that Ron didn't notice his nervous reply.

For once, that God seemed to listen to his pleas, because Ron let it go and faced forward again as they made their way down the stairs.

It was four o'clock, and they were heading down to see Hermione. Harry desperately needed somebody to talk to, and he figured Hermione would be it. If anyone could solve a problem, it was her.


	6. Welcome Home

She sighed contentedly as she held her trunk by her side. The healer, who had kindly offered to escort her back to the school, was absolutely getting on her nerves. She would not be sad to be shot of the woman.

"Here you are, deary," the healer said in a sickeningly sweet voice.

Hermione tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"Thank you." _Even though I could have very well Apparated myself here, you harpy._

"Shall I accompany you to the front doors, miss Granger?"

"No, I'm sure I'll be able to make it without collapsing, thank you," Hermione huffed, working as much attitude into the statement as she could.

She was insanely grateful to be back at school. Not only was she free of that dreadful place, which was filled with overly-nice, white-clad annoyances and constantly hacking patients, but she could also see her best friends. It was a lonely place, the sick ward. St. Mungo's was not on her list of vacation places, that was for sure.

And, not only had she been dragged there against her will, but she was forced to stay much longer than was necessary for a mild case of Dragon Pox. Although, she wasn't sure she could stand staying at Hogwarts if Ron was going to constantly put Harry next to her in order to infect him with the disease. She knew the illness was very similar to the muggle illness chicken pox, and Ron was clearly aware of the severity progressing with age. She just didn't want to be constantly reminded that she had it.

The witch nodded and disappeared with a loud _CRACK!_ Hermione began dragging her trunk up the steps to the front door, completely clear of the spots that had marred her skin for a week.

She was finally free and coming home.

The large door creaked as it swung on its hinges. She struggled to open it and hold the trunk upright, but felt the weight of the door disappear as it was helped open from the inside.

"Harry! Ron!" she squealed, letting the trunk drop as she flew forward. Her arms wrapped around their necks, hugging them both at once. They were all squeezed into a tight bunch as they greeted each other with muffled voices.

"How was St. Mungo's, then?" Harry said when she saw fit to release them.

She immediately rolled her eyes.

"Ergh, terrible. The healers wouldn't leave me alone! They would tell me to sleep, then wake me up in the middle of the night to give me a potion or perform a spell, then tell me to get more rest! Where's the sense in that?" she complained, flailing her hands as she spoke. "Plus the woman next to me kept coughing, which didn't make the sleep any easier."

She would be so glad to get back to the nice, quiet common room and finally relax.

"Well, you look better at least," Ron chuckled, his adorable blue eyes shining with his amusement. Hermione furiously battled the blush that threatened to creep up on her. She busied herself instead with the trunk again, trying to heave it off the floor.

"Oy, Sicky, let me get it," Harry said, smirking. He, of course, lifted it with ease. His athleticism never ceased to amaze her.

She glared briefly at his statement, but smiled gratefully all the same.

They talked as the three made their way back to the common room. A few students waved their hello as they passed, welcoming Hermione back, to which she replied with a wide smile. Well, she hadn't known she would be missed so much…

"We really missed you, Hermione," Ron said, seemingly knowing her thoughts. She actually did blush this time.

"Yeah, a lot," Harry added, pulling the trunk forcefully over a wrinkle in one of the carpets. His emerald eyes seemed to breathe happiness into her again with their intensity. Despite all he had been through, Harry's eyes held more life than anyone else she knew.

Oh, what would she do without her boys?

"I'm touched," she said mockingly. But really, she was.

"Here we are," said Ron, bowing dramatically and sweeping his arm before the Portrait Lady, signaling her to go first.

Hermione giggled.

"I don't know the password," she said, amused.

"I had it changed," Ron grinned proudly. "It's 'welcome home'."

The Portrait swung open and Hermione stepped in, still giggling at Ron's cheesiness. He pretended to be shallow, but she knew for a fact that he was just a softie cursed with the famous Weasley Short Temper. She looked up, anticipating the soothing colors and rich décor of the Gryffindor common room.

"SURPRISE!"

The wall of sound that crashed into her nearly knocked her over backwards. Her eyes widened comically as the entire house greeted her with whoops, hollers, shouting, cheering, clapping, and overall yelling in general. She placed a hand over her heart, afraid that an attack was not far off.

But she prevailed and finally managed to turn around and glare at her two best friends.

"What have you done?" she said lowly.

Harry and Ron merely just grinned stupidly at her, knowing perfectly well what they did. She could see them trying to withhold their laughter, no doubt at her misery.

Thoughtful bastards.

She was dragged into the common room by several pairs of hands, all patting and caressing her like some sort of house-pet. They asked if she was alright, how her stay was, how she fell ill in the first place… So many questions she couldn't possibly answer them all at once. So she just stood stock still and allowed herself to be manhandled while Harry and Ron cackled in the distance.

When she was finally given some breathing room, she couldn't help but smile shyly. Sure, she hated this, but knowing that she had actually been _missed_…that people actually knew she was _gone_…that was a very pleasant surprise. She giggled as Seamus gave her a peck on the cheek, and Neville hugged her and patted her back.

"Alright, alright," Ron shouted over the voices, fishing Hermione out of the crowd and pulling her from the midst. "The girl just came back from the hospital, don't suffocate her!"

Hermione blushed as Ron spoke, for his hand was still clutching her arm from the rescue.

But alas, the night was not over. Harry and Ron had taken a few of the other boys down to the kitchens to haul up some food for what was to be a very long, loud party. She groaned, seeing the table (meant for studying) piled high with sweets and snacks. This wasn't going to end any time soon.

Apparently, someone had also done some serious lifting, because there were also several open bottles of a liquid that was crackling and shooting up sparks every once in a while. Hermione pretended not to see the label marked 'Firewhiskey' on each one.

Choosing instead to have a Butterbeer, she relaxed into one of the armchairs and started up a pleasant conversation with Parvati. She could hear raucous laughter in the background, but chose the quieter side of the party. Plus, she rarely got to speak with another girl.

Sometimes boys were a bit tiresome.

"So what have I missed, lessons-wise?" Hermione questioned eagerly. Parvati shrugged.

"Just a few new spells in Defense that you probably already know. Oh, but in Transfiguration we started learning to change one species to another."

"Oh!" Hermione said, sitting up straighter. "Trans-species Transfiguration? I was looking forward to that!"

She huffed disappointedly, crossing her arms. Parvati rolled her eyes, but Hermione wasn't sure why exactly.

The laughter was getting louder as the time ticked by. Parvati steered the conversation away from school and onto boys, which for once, Hermione didn't mind talking about. It had, after all, been a long week without much human interaction.

"Oh, I know!" Parvati squealed, fanning herself exaggeratedly. "I wouldn't mind getting to know him a bit better, if you ask me…"

Hermione nodded, agreeing.

"Oh, but have you heard about _Neville_?" Parvati said now, her voice lowering to a near whisper.

"Oh dear. What now?" Hermione asked warily.

"No, no, it's good!" she reassured, to which Hermione relaxed a bit. "He's got a girlfriend!"

Shock.

She looked around and saw Neville and Ron conversing. Neville was grinning, looking the happiest he had ever been.

"Who?" Hermione asked, leaning in curiously.

"Loony Lovegood!"

She smiled, having had her suspicions. Of course Neville would go for Luna. It was obvious that she fascinated him, and not just her looks. The girl was…interesting in many ways. With Neville's liking for unusual plants and Luna's obsession with…weird things, it was only a matter of time.

"How's it going, then?" Hermione gossiped further.

"Good, if word round the common room is accurate," she sniggered, sloshing her Butterbeer slightly. "Apparently Neville's bottom isn't the only thing that's long – "

"Hey Hermione?"

She turned to see a very timid looking Harry standing there. He was holding a small glass, which had crackling Firewhiskey in it.

"Yes Harry?"

"Er…I was wondering if…if I could talk to you…for a minute? Er…alone?"

He shot an apologetic look at Parvati, who seemed unable to care as she stared longingly back at him.

"Sure," Hermione said simply. She stood, told Parvati that she would talk to her later, and followed Harry up to the boys' dorm. They couldn't go to the girls', for fear of the staircase melting again.

* * *

><p>"What's the matter, Harry? You seem really nervous."<p>

This seemed to just make him more so, which Hermione realized, meant this was serious. Harry wasn't one to display fear so much these days.

"Yeah…"

"Have you been having visions again?" Hermione asked urgently. Why on earth hadn't he told her in a letter sooner? Or he could have told Dumbledore. She just didn't understand Harry's 'suffer alone' logic sometimes. If he would just…

Panic shot through her as she realized he had a slight glisten to his eyes.

Okay, this was _really_ serious.

"Harry?" she said soothingly, reaching out and touching his arm to remind him she was here. "What is it?"

He looked away, holding the glass loosely. Boys and their fear of showing emotion…

"You know you can tell me anything," she said, trying to coax him back. He was shutting down, probably trying to think of a way to back out. Well, he wouldn't if _she_ could help it…

He looked back at her. Confusion, fear, and probably the effects of Firewhiskey were all swimming in his green eyes, which were dulled by the darkness of the room. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, clearly trying to find courage. Or stall.

"Promise you won't get angry?" he said shakily. She had never heard such a quiver in his voice before.

She frowned. Had he done something bad? Was it something that would affect _her_? It must be, if he was so nervous about telling her.

But Hermione thought, even if it was, Harry would never do anything to hurt her on purpose. He would never do anything to hurt _anyone _on purpose. Well, perhaps Malfoy.

And truth be told, Hermione found it very hard to be angry with Harry. Ever. She had yelled, thrown things, slapped, and jinxed people, but never had she been angry with Harry. This just now was somewhat of a revelation to her. Harry certainly got off easy when it came to her expressing her wrath.

She shook herself mentally to focus on what was at hand.

"Harry, I've never been mad at you," she said, smiling warmly. He chuckled, looking down and swirling the glass slightly.

"I suppose not. But I don't know…about this…" he sounded unbelievably frightened. For goodness sake, the boy had fought a 50-foot basilisk when he was twelve…

"Harry, I won't be mad. I promise," she said, a little more sternly. "I _promise_."

"I think…" Harry said, looking up tentatively, "I think…I'm gay."

Hermione stared blankly at him.

"What?"

"Please, I don't want to say it again," Harry said, kneading his forehead with the free hand.

"But…" Hermione slowly tried to gather herself. "But what about Cho? And Ginny?"

"I don't know about Cho," Harry said, shaking his head and still covering his eyes. "And…wait, what _about_ Ginny?"

"Er…nothing, I guess," Hermione said, organizing her thoughts a little again. "But, is that it, then?"

"Is what it?"

"You're just gay? There' nothing else? No dirty evidence? No hidden bodies?"

He looked at her incredulously. "Er…no. You thought I killed somebody?"

"No, but, the way you were acting, you would think you had," Hermione said, a little annoyed. He had gotten her all worked up for practically nothing.

"Well, there's more…" Harry added, looking ashamed. "I only found this out because, er, Ron sort of accidentally mauled me naked while we were showering together."

"What?"

"He fell!" Harry corrected quickly, putting up a hand as he realized what he said. "It was after practice and he slipped and I hadn't changed yet so we were both naked and his…er…thing touched mine and everything."

"So…his thing touched yours?" Hermione repeated slowly. She tried not to picture it, but there it was.

"Yeah," Harry said. His cheeks were tinged pink, which would have been adorable had she not been reeling from horrific mental images of her best friends sliding all over each other.

"Good Lord," she said, closing her eyes and shaking her head forcefully. "So…er…you liked it, then?"

"Well, no, not at the time, because it hurt," Harry said, making absolutely no eye contact with her. "But then…ergh…I had a dream, okay?"

Hermione tried not to giggle. She needed to be as understanding as possible, she realized, because Harry was clearly suffering.

"What kind of dream?" Hermione asked, though she was pretty sure what kind.

"A…well, a naughty dream, I guess," he said, blushing crimson. "I guess, what I'm saying is…" he sighed, closing his eyes tightly. "I guess I like him. In _that_ way."

"Really?" Hermione said, nodding. She was surprised, of course, but it wasn't as though Harry could help it.

"Yeah…" he said. He appeared to be bracing himself.

"Harry, I'm still not angry. Is that all?"

"You're not?"

Now he looked shocked. His eyes met hers, wide and innocent.

"No," she scoffed. "Why would I be?"

"Well, I figured that since you liked him too, you'd be mad," he said, as though it were obvious.

Hermione sputtered around her Butterbeer.

"What makes you think I like him?" she asked indignantly.

Harry gave her a flat look.

"It's obvious you both like each other. Everyone's been waiting since book four," Harry said after rolling his eyes again.

"Well, it's just a silly crush!" Hermione defended, hiding behind her bottle. "Wait, you think he likes me?"

Her hopeful question seemed rude now as she saw his face fall.

"I'm sorry," she said hurriedly. "I didn't mean – "

"No, no," Harry said, shaking his head. "That's just it. I'm pretty sure he does. I mean, I dunno, I'm happy for you and all. I just…"

The glossy look appeared in his eyes again and he looked away.

"Harry," Hermione said, trying to comfort him. "It really is just a silly crush. To tell the truth, I don't think I would actually like _being _with Ron. It's just…ever since you've been putting him through that vigorous training schedule, he's been a lot more…"

"Muscular?" Harry asked, looking up and grinning just a bit.

They both chuckled.

Hermione thought this was a bit nice. Perhaps she would have someone to talk about boys with without having to be so…girly about it.

"But, about _your_ problem," Hermione said, looking straight into Harry's eyes so that he couldn't escape. "I really think you should talk to Ron. How do you know he doesn't feel the same?"

Harry snorted.

"Well, he hasn't said anything about it."

"Neither have you," Hermione pointed out.

Harry looked at her thoughtfully, his head tilting to one side. Hermione smirked, knowing she had at least put the thought in his head. Now, however, it was up to him to make the call.


	7. Checkmate

Ron laughed as Hermione started up a quiet, subdued conversation with the only other person who didn't drink: Parvati.

Of course, he hadn't expected her to drink, really. After all, she had just come from St. Mungo's, and she _was_ Hermione. It was just Ron's responsibility, as the only remaining Weasley brother, to supply the party with illegal alcohol. Not that it had been that hard. One faked drop of Harry's glasses and they had a distraction long enough for him to knick several bottles and stuff them in his robes before the House-Elves could notice. The Elves flocking around Harry gave Ron more than enough time, but he was educated just in case. Fred and George always said the teachers kept the good stuff on the bottom shelves.

So Ron, after his second or third glass, wandered across the room, somewhat unsteadily.

He couldn't handle this anymore. _Someone_ had to know and help him out with this shit, otherwise he would surely go mad. Hermione was a choice, but he felt it would be too awkward to talk to her about _things_. So, who else was on the list of people who probably wouldn't freak out?

"Hey Neville, mate? Is it okay if I talk to you for a sec?" Ron asked, feeling some of his courage fade at what he was about to do.

Neville nodded and Ron seized his arm, dragging him off to a corner of the room that was a bit more secluded. At least there was music and laughter to hide their conversation.

"What is it, Ron?" Neville asked, looking genuinely concerned.

Ron smiled slightly. People could say what they want about him, but there was no denying that Neville was the fucking nicest person on the planet. He always had been, really, only now he wasn't quite so timid around people ever since the ministry last year. His arse had shaped quite nicely over the years, too.

Ron felt that perhaps he was taking this whole 'liking blokes' thing a bit _too_ well.

"So, er," Ron said, fingering his glass nervously. "I have this sort of…problem. And I'm not quite sure how to deal with it. And I figured, you'd be the best person to tell, so…"

"What is it?" Neville said again, frowning.

Ron sighed, averting his eyes. "I…er…don't go spreading this around, okay?"

"Ron, what _is _it?" Neville pressed eagerly. "I won't tell anyone, I swear."

"Okay," Ron said, looking up at him. "I'm…er…gay. I guess."

Neville stared.

"What?"

"I like blokes," Ron clarified. "Like, you know. To snog and stuff."

"Oh," Neville said, still staring.

There was a long pause.

"So, like, is that it?"

"Yeah."

"You like blokes, eh?"

"Yes."

Neville's eyes suddenly widened.

"Wait, why are you telling _me_ this?" he said suspiciously.

"Because there's someone I like, and…I dunno. I don't know what else to do," Ron trailed off, looking down at his glass. He chose _now_ to be shy?

"Oh God, it's not me, is it?"

"What? No!" Ron said, wondering if he had gone mad.

"Wait, why not?"

Now he sounded offended. Ron stared incredulously at him.

"I don't know! You're dating Luna anyway, so why does it matter!" Ron said, waving his arms.

"Oh…yeah."

Neville's face fell into a dreamy expression, to which Ron tried not to gag. They were going to be one of _those_ couples…

"Anyways," Ron said loudly, trying to bring him back. Neville focused, so he continued. "I like someone else, and I sort of think he likes me too. I just don't know how to…you know. Go about this."

Neville nodded. Ron was grateful that he wasn't creeped out or anything. He didn't think Neville would be that way but, again, one could never be too sure about these things.

"Have you told Harry yet? Maybe he could help you?" Neville suggested.

"No…" Ron said, looking back down at his glass.

"Why not?" he asked curiously. "He's your best friend, I'm sure he wouldn't, you know, be prejudiced or anything."

Ron didn't answer, but he could feel his cheeks burning. It was only a matter of time…

"Oh. He's it, isn't he?" Neville said quietly. Ron nodded, still refusing to speak. "Well, I'm sorry mate. But, you know, I had no idea _you_ were…you know. So, maybe he is too?"

Ron nodded, not wanting to talk about the dream at the moment. That wasn't his secret to tell.

"I'm just not sure how to tell him!" Ron burst out suddenly. "I wish there was like…some sort of handbook or something. I mean, how do you know for sure? And how do you 'woo' another bloke?"

He slumped against the wall, hopeless in his abilities. He knew he would have to try. It was just the _how _that was bothering him.

"Well," Neville said thoughtfully, swirling his glass in slow motion. "Perhaps there's like, a magazine, or something, you know? Like Witch Weekly, only for…er…_same sex pairings_."

It sounded weirder when he said it like that.

But maybe he had a point. Perhaps there _was_ a magazine for it. After all, he couldn't be the _only_ gay wizard who attends a magical boarding school with the object of his affections, could he?

"Maybe write a letter to Witch Weekly and ask them," Neville suggested.

"That's actually a pretty good idea," Ron said, grinning. "Thanks, Nev. I'll try it. I guess I've nothing better to do," Ron added, slightly frustrated at his lack of options.

But for now, it would do.

* * *

><p>He composed the letter right there in the middle of the party. Everyone was too drunk by now to pay him any attention, and Harry was out of sight off somewhere, probably drunk as well. Perhaps his boldness was attributed to a few drinks of his own, but who was counting?<p>

He finished it and read it back:

_Dear Witch Weekly,_

_I'm not quite sure how to do this, so I'm pretty much gonna just lay it all out here._

_I have just recently found out that I'm gay. Not only that, but I happen to be pining after my best friend. After overhearing a certain wet dream, I'm pretty sure that he's into me too, but there's always some freak chance that he's not. Anyways, I need to know some tips or something on how to figure all this shit out, because really, it's quite frustrating and a bit scary._

_Is there some type of magazine like yours, but that deals with guys like me? I'm drowning here, and I'm not quite sure what to do or who to turn to. Please respond, whoever you are, with this owl. I would most appreciate it. Oh, and my friend reads your magazine, so I totally support you and all._

_Thanks,_

_Roonil Wazlib_

That was as good as it was going to get.

So he sealed it, grabbed Pigwidgeon, and tied the small parchment to his tiny owl's leg. He took off excitedly out the window.

That little guy needed some muscle relaxers or something, because he was always way too hyper. Unfortunately, Ron loved him anyway.

So he returned to the party as if he had not just revealed his darkest secret to a random stranger miles away. At least he had used his alias. No one would figure that out.

"Hey mate," Ron said as Harry appeared suddenly from the stairs leading to the boys' dorm.

"Hey," Harry said, smiling nervously and sipping at his Firewhiskey. Ron gulped his own, feeling an intense burn that warmed him quickly, almost like Butterbeer but about a thousand times hotter. None of them even liked Firewhiskey, but it was _cool_ to pretend they did. Plus, the burn lessened the more drunk you were.

Hermione appeared as well, and she smirked at him as she passed by. His eyes widened. That look was a bit too knowledgeable for his liking…

"So, what were you guys talking about?" Ron asked Harry innocently.

Harry nearly sprayed his Firewhiskey across the room, but managed to keep it in.

"Er, nothing. Just told her about my, er, dream. You know, the one a few days ago," Harry rambled, trying and failing to keep his composure.

"Ah," Ron said, taking another draw from his glass. He eyed Hermione across the room over the edge of it.

So. She knew.

He wasn't quite sure why he didn't want her to know. Perhaps because she over-analyzed everything (chess with her was a nightmare), or because he wasn't sure whether she approved of that type of 'lifestyle choice' or whatever. But, judging by the look she had given him (and was still giving him), she didn't seem to find a problem with it at all. She seemed almost…

Excited.

He realized that, if she was, then that could only mean one thing. She was _waiting_ for something to happen, which meant Harry was either waiting as well _or_ waiting to _do _something. But then that meant that he definitely liked Ron too.

So…now what?

That was always where it seemed to stop. Frustrated, Ron walked back over to the bottles and poured another healthy glass of Firewhiskey. Perhaps it would give him ideas…

As if.

He would just rather drown his sorrows before he could wallow in them too much. He was such a coward…

* * *

><p>All the boys piled into the dorm, laughing and tripping all over each other. Neville sniggered as Seamus fell flat on his face. Dean looked a bit sick, and Harry was laughing almost hysterically. This in turn made Ron laugh, who was holding them both up at the moment. Though, barely.<p>

His noodley legs gave out after he deposited Harry onto his bed and walked over to his own. They chuckled a little bit more and lay there, pretty much out of their minds.

It had been a long party.

Ron could hear the other boys fall into their beds one by one. A few minutes later, there was running footsteps, a vomiting noise, and then snoring that echoed from the bathroom. Ron didn't envy Dean. Firewhiskey burned as much going down as it did coming up.

He could hear Harry stumble to his feet. Ron lifted his head and watched as Harry haphazardly ripped his shirt off, threw it on the floor, and then collapsed back onto the bed. He kept watching, unashamed of his open admiration.

Harry's was a very lean figure. He was a bit thin, but not in an unhealthy way anymore. The meals at Hogwarts were able to take care of that in about a day. No, he was just a naturally slight figure. It was what made him such a good Seeker.

And boy, could you tell. Harry had defined muscles now that showed their generous use on the pitch. Strong arms that could reach out in a chase for the Snitch, toned legs that were used to holding him up on a broom for hours, abs that contracted nicely when he was laughing or breathing deeply, and an arse tighter than a Niffler to a wristwatch.

And now he was hard.

Ron groaned, pulling his legs up onto the bed to try and hide his shame. He looked over to Harry again to see if he noticed, but Harry had draped himself over the bed on his stomach this time and was facing the other way. Perhaps he was asleep.

Ron sighed, resigning himself to another night of jacking off in the darkness. Snores could be heard from the other beds and the bathroom still, so he figured he was safe.

He slowly closed the curtains around his bed, not making any noise that could give him away. When he reached over to shield his view of Harry with them, he stopped.

Seeing the slightly tan skin (even though it was fucking winter) in the moonlight, Ron couldn't make himself look away. He bit his lower lip, then left a small gap in the curtain so as to not obstruct his view.

Harry shifted, wiggling his hips slightly and making Ron grunt softly with need. Those damn jeans were riding so low that if they just slipped a _few more_ inches…

Ron reached down and unbuttoned his trousers. He freed his cock and stroked it a few times, biting his lower lip again as he wondered what it would be like to get inside those jeans…

He hummed slightly, closing his eyes and relaxing against the pillow. He could just picture Harry's flushed face, with that beautiful little blush he had been sporting for days now, writhing beneath him. Ron could feel hands clutching at him due to his ministrations, telling him not to stop, to keep going…

He grunted again, stroking faster. He opened his eyes briefly to see Harry's wild hair sticking up, as always. Ron closed them again and imagined running his hands through that unruly hair, gripping it tightly, pushing his head down until pink, pouty lips closed around his cock.

Ron stifled a groan. He was too far gone now.

He could see just what it would be like. Harry's lips, so full and able to be put to work. They were wasted on mere speech. He could see Harry's bright green eyes looking up at him innocently as his hot mouth sucked him in, playing with him, bobbing up and down sinfully sweet…

Ron moaned quietly now, unable to stop it from slipping out. He was so close, with Harry pleasuring him in his little fantasy. His own hand undoubtedly wasn't the same, but the image was more than enough.

He turned his head to the side, opened his eyes again as he felt the buildup of his orgasm, and was startled to see those bright green eyes in reality.

Staring at them, making his fantasy that much better, Ron came, crying out softly and knowing he should be embarrassed.

It was only afterward that he actually was.

He blushed, feeling the cum on his hand and probably on his sheets. Harry looked horrified at being caught watching, however, and his face was nearly scarlet. He turned away quickly.

But not quick enough for Ron to miss the obvious bulge in his jeans.

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or perhaps the fact that he was in the blissful post-orgasmic state. Either way, Ron decided that this might be his only chance to finally make a move. Screw the damn magazine.

After all, it was clear what Harry's feelings were. That visibly hard cock did not lie. Ron couldn't help feeling a little grateful that Harry, like himself, had kept watching too. He felt a bit less creepy at having observed the sex dream now...

Ron got out of bed slowly, wiping his hand on the sheets and silently vowing to clean it later. He was nervous as hell and was thinking about just going to bed and never speaking of it again, but the evidence was right there in front of him. It had been for days. He just needed to get it out there for the both of them before he lost his resolve, because it was clear that Harry wasn't going to move first.

Well, Harry always _did_ choose the black pieces. It seemed that, like always, Ron was white, and he knew he could win this little game with some well-placed strategic moves.

Without saying anything, Ron sat on the edge of the other boy's bed. He could see Harry stiffen, clearly panicking, and he hesitated.

"Harry?" Ron said slowly.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered quickly, still not turning to look at him. "I didn't mean…it was an accident. Sorry."

His voice grew smaller with each word, and Ron had to work hard not to laugh.

"S' okay," Ron said, letting a light chuckle slip. "I don't care…"

Harry finally twisted slightly to look at him. His cheeks were adorable, and tinted so pink Ron wondered how he was able to keep an erection when all his blood was concentrated in his face. His large, innocent eyes were questioning, as if inquiring about his sanity.

Ron sighed, reached up, and closed the curtains around Harry's bed. He couldn't believe he was going to do this now, and here, while they were still a little drunk...

"I know you dreamt about me," he whispered, sitting back down. He didn't feel so bad admitting this now, though, since Harry had just been caught watching too. It was time to inform Harry that he knew about all this shit, and that they should both just get the fuck over it.

He could hear Harry's breath hitch, and Ron hoped like hell that punch to the face wasn't coming.

But Harry's fist didn't swing out, and he didn't yell or scream. His eyes just widened, his cheeks got impossibly darker, and his head whipped back around to hide his face from Ron's view.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, sounding mortified.

"But Harry," Ron said, taking a leap. "I told you, I don't care. Well, I do, but not in the way you think. I'm sort of glad, because…well, I dunno…I kind of…"

He was beginning to panic. Why was this so hard for him?

"…Er, like you. And stuff," he finished lamely.

Harry didn't speak for a little while, and every second that ticked by made Ron freak out more. But finally, still facing away, the raven-haired boy spoke.

"Really?" he whispered.

"Yeah."

"But…why?" Harry asked. He appeared to be speaking to the curtains.

"Well, why do you like _me_?"

Ron could swear he almost _heard_ Harry blush harder at his question. His eyes roamed that bare back that was facing him. It was all smooth, but his shoulders were toned and tensed at the moment. He could feel a tingling between his legs again as he stared in the dark, silent enclosure of curtains.

They were all alone.

"When you were asleep, I heard you say my name," he continued, moving a bit closer on the bed. "You told me not to stop…"

Harry's back was to him, so he couldn't see his reaction, but Ron hoped that Harry's lack of breathing meant something good. Ron scooted closer again, laying almost flush with him now, and inched a hand over to rest on Harry's hip. Right near those damn jeans that were teasing him so.

He leaned in and whispered almost right next to his ear, "Do you _want _me to stop?"

Ron waited, his hand still on Harry's bare skin. It was incredibly warm and made his mouth practically water. He hoped to god Harry didn't say yes, because he wasn't sure if he _could _hold back even if he wanted to.

There was a long pause, before he heard Harry's timid voice.

"N…no."

That was all he bloody needed.

Ron slid his hand further over Harry's waist, reaching the front where the stupid button was keeping that precious cock from springing loose. He dealt with it quickly and pulled down the zipper.

His other arm snaked underneath Harry, reaching around to pull his back directly against Ron's front. His right hand worked under Harry's boxers while his left flattened against that toned chest of his to hold him close.

_I'm actually doing this_, he thought as his hand wrapped around Harry's erection for the first time.

Harry moaned, pushing his hips forward into his hand. Ron tried to control himself, tried not to moan as well, but he couldn't hide the fact that he was totally aroused again. Perhaps it was his powerful position, or Harry's immediate reaction. Or the alcohol.

He nipped at the back of Harry's neck, and the other boy twisted slightly to finally kiss him. Ron could feel soft lips against his, and next thing he knew, a tongue had worked into his mouth as well.

His grip around Harry's penis tightened as they snogged furiously, almost desperate in their approach. He nibbled that plump bottom lip and Harry whimpered when he started stroking his length up and down. Ron brought up one of his legs and pinned Harry's corresponding one to the bed, spreading him wider to get better access to that generous cock.

Because he could feel it, at its full length, and it wasn't just an average little thing.

Harry's mouth broke away and he whined, reaching back and tangling a hand in Ron's red hair. Ron nipped and sucked at his neck, enjoying the little sounds he made. It made him wonder what Harry would sound like when he didn't have to worry about being overheard…

He was panting and writhing at Ron's every touch, which only excited him more. It was just like how he imagined it. _He _made Harry make those delectable noises, not some girl. At this, he could feel his own hard-on had reformed with a vengeance, and it wasn't taking kindly to being ignored.

His hips moved seemingly of their own accord as he slowly began rutting against Harry's jean-clad arse, still pumping him sensuously. He wanted Harry to come. He wanted to hear that wonderful noise of release from those precious lips…

Only this time, it would be by his actual hand, and not some fabricated dream.

Harry clenched his hair tighter, which only encouraged Ron to move faster. He could hear his heavy breathing, and he continued to push against Harry from behind. Sure, humping was a bit juvenile, but he didn't really care at this point. He wanted Harry to feel what he did to him, how hard he was just from touching him.

"You're gonna make me come," Harry said breathlessly, turning his head and closing his eyes. He looked like he was trying to resist it, but Ron wouldn't have any of that.

"I know," he muttered against Harry's skin.

And at that, Harry did. He bucked his hips forward desperately, coming in white spurts into Ron's hand. It was warm and sticky, but the sounds Harry made as he rode out his orgasm were the most erotic Ron had ever heard. He moaned breathily, turning his head side to side and writhing in pleasure.

When Harry slowed and finally relaxed against him, Ron released his cock. He turned Harry over, who looked almost asleep already, and pushed his tongue into his mouth again to taste him. It was a taste like...mint, but a subtle kind. One that seemed to match his bright green eyes perfectly. One that he would remember forever.

As Ron snogged with the boy he was now straddling, he couldn't help but feel that this was the best feeling ever. It wasn't as weird as he thought it would be, kissing another bloke. It was actually sort of…fun.

_Checkmate, _he thought, tangling his fingers into that wild jet-black hair.


	8. Morning

Harry groaned, turning over slowly as he heard those damned birds again.

It took him a moment to realize what his elbow had just collided with, until he squinted his eyes open to see tousled ginger hair on the pillow next to him. His cheeks warmed as he realized what had happened last night, and why his trousers were so sticky.

Ron had known all along. That was why he had been asking such mortifying questions the past few days. He hadn't been hitting random topics by accident, no. Ron had been toying with him, probably trying to get him to just say something. To admit it.

Well, at least it was out in the open now. Harry stretched slightly, unable to stop the grin that crept across his face at how relaxed he was. Apparently hand jobs can do wonders.

But now there was the problem of Ron being in his bed and the other boys bustling around just outside the curtains. Harry usually had them partially open but they were closed at the moment, which he hoped didn't attract too much suspicion already.

"Ron?" Harry asked, shaking him a little. For once, Ron wasn't snoring. However, he groaned and pushed his face into the pillow.

"Five more minutes," he said in a muffled voice.

Some things never changed.

"Ron, you're in my bed," Harry pressed, nudging him a bit harder.

Reluctantly, Ron raised his head and Harry saw his bright blue eyes, which were so clear despite their drowsiness. Ron grinned, his light dusting of freckles across his cheeks making it that much cuter. Before Harry could say anything else, Ron leaned over and pecked him on the lips.

"'Morning," Ron said, chuckling sleepily.

He couldn't help but feel amazed at the simple gesture. Only yesterday, they had been best mates before Ron had crawled into his bed and proceeded to pleasure him thoroughly. Then, afterward, they had snogged furiously and apparently fallen asleep. The last thing Harry remembered was Ron's tongue in his mouth. Now, a simple kiss seemed so foreign, yet…comfortable.

"So, how are we gonna do this?" Ron asked, propping himself up on one elbow.

"Do what?" Harry replied warily. There were several things he could be talking about. Get out of bed without the others noticing? Go about seeing each other within the castle? Telling their friends?

The list seemed endless. Harry hadn't really been focusing on the repercussions of this whole thing last night. He had been a bit distracted…

"I dunno. Date, or whatever," Ron said, shrugging and looking a bit embarrassed. At least Harry wasn't the only one.

But he grinned anyways.

"So we're, like, dating now?" Harry said slowly.

"I guess so," Ron said, sniggering. "Even though we really haven't been on a _date_."

"Does shoving your hand in my trousers count?" Harry teased, raising an eyebrow. "Because I think a first date is supposed to be dinner or a movie or something."

"Movie?" Ron said, looking confused.

"Never mind. So what are we, then?" Harry wondered.

"Boyfriends," Ron shrugged, as if it were completely normal.

Harry would have to get used to this.

"Do you want to tell anybody?" Harry asked quietly.

"I dunno…" Ron said hesitantly. He looked down, fiddling with the blanket. "I just…if it got out…"

"You don't want people to spread it around," Harry said, nodding. He understood that it wouldn't be easy, and Ron would undoubtedly want to keep it low-key. Plus, he had a family's opinion to worry about, unlike Harry.

"No, no," Ron said, looking up quickly. "I mean, with you being all famous, _the Prophet's_ no doubt gonna get a hold of it…and then they'll just be spreading around more rumors of you…and then you'll probably get a bunch of hate-mail and stuff all the time…and Merlin knows You-Know-Who doesn't need another weapon against you…I just don't want it to become this big thing that makes you miserable and everything…"

Harry looked at him, shocked at the protectiveness in Ron's statement. He sounded embarrassed, but Harry couldn't help feeling a bit touched. He wasn't even worried about how everyone would perceive _him_.

"Yeah, but I'm used to being ridiculed," Harry reasoned. It wasn't like it would be different than any other time there were rumors.

Ron shook his head.

"I dunno, Harry. The way some people are…I mean, even if the teachers found out, we might get kicked out of the dorm or something. And everyone would give you hell again, and I know it just started getting better now that everyone believes you're not insane. I just…I dunno. You should be able to have a normal life for once," Ron sounded slightly bitter as he finished.

"You know that's never gonna happen," Harry laughed, leaning forward again for another kiss. "But thanks. That's really…sweet."

Ron rolled his eyes while Harry smirked at him.

"Er…Ron?"

They both froze, looking at the curtains where the voice had come from. It sounded like Neville.

"Are you…er…in there?" came his tentative voice.

"Yeah," Ron said slowly, looking like he didn't know what else to do.

"Everyone else is gone. I told them you left already, since your bed's empty."

"Oh, thank god," Ron sighed, sounding relieved. "Thanks Nev."

Harry let out a breath he had been holding as well.

"So er…things went well then?" they could hear a snicker from him, even through the curtains.

"Hell yes," Ron said, grinning sheepishly at Harry.

"You told him about all this?" Harry hissed. "When?"

"Last night, at the party," Ron said, staring right into his eyes. "What, I don't get to talk to anybody? What did you and Hermione talk about all alone, eh? Books?"

"I suppose you're right," Harry said flatly, finally sitting up. He sighed and rubbed his temple.

Twelve hours in and it was already really complicated.

Harry buttoned his trousers (which hadn't been done after their little episode last night), and pulled the curtains back. Neville was digging in his trunk for something, probably trying to look like he hadn't been eavesdropping. He waved briefly, but never made eye contact.

Harry turned to his own trunk, sighing again. Great, now Neville knew and wouldn't ever look at him the same again. Or, perhaps it was just awkward since Ron climbed out of the same bed right after him.

Ron didn't seem to mind a bit, because he stretched, scratched his shoulder and walked past him with no sign of remorse. He seemed to be taking this all in great stride, Harry thought as he watched Ron's shirt ride up in the back. It revealed a healthy amount of skin, which was taught and firm over the muscles of his back.

Harry was beginning to really appreciate his training schedule for the team. Hermione was right, it had certainly made Ron a little more built, which made him shiver at the thought.

"Gonna take a shower," Ron said absentmindedly, pulling the shirt off and stumbling towards the bathroom.

Harry finally managed to locate his robes and a clean pair of underwear. He stared down at the boxer-brief things, which he had only bought at the beginning of the year during his school shopping. He had stolen away from Ron and Ginny, saying he had to pick up his robes, but in truth he just wanted some underwear that hadn't once belonged to Dudley. It still creeped him out, really.

He shuddered and pulled off his jeans from yesterday. He had been too drunk to change into pyjamas last night, and then too tired after Ron's…confession. Now they were all wrinkled from sleeping in them, so he tossed them on the floor with the discarded shirt from yesterday as well.

He was stark naked in the middle of the dorm, trying to unbutton the little buttons on the white shirt he had chosen to wear for today, when he heard a gasp from behind him.

He turned, distracted from his task. Neville looked away quickly and Harry frowned.

"What?" he asked. It wasn't the first time he had changed here before.

"Nothing," Neville said, still not looking at him.

"Bullshit," Harry glared. "You haven't even said 'hi' this morning. Am I offending you with something?"

He severely hoped Neville wasn't being like this because he was with Ron now. He had thought Neville, of all people, would be accepting enough. More accepting than Seamus or Dean, anyway.

"No, no," Neville said, scratching the back of his neck. "I'm not, like, _offended_ or anything. Ron already told me last night about himself. I just never expected _you _to…I mean, all the girls that follow you around! You're like some sort of magnet for them, because you're good looking and famous. It's just unexpected, that's all."

"Good looking?" Harry said, bewildered.

Neville rolled his eyes.

"Even you aren't that oblivious…are you?"

Harry felt suddenly very aware of his nudity. He looked away, feeling his cheeks heat up, and pulled on the black briefs to at least cover himself a bit. As he did, he said, "I dunno, never really thought about it, I guess…"

"Well, I'm just saying," Neville said, shrugging. He seemed a bit embarrassed as well, but Harry couldn't help smiling a bit to himself.

Good looking, huh?

So, he put the shirt on and set to the task of re-buttoning the damn thing. His calloused fingers were used to gripping a wand, or a broom handle, or a sword. They weren't nimble enough to deal with this shit. He could catch a speeding Snitch out of thin air, but these damn buttons… Why had he even bought this thing?

Oh yeah. Because it _also_ wasn't Dudley's.

He finished the last teeny button and smoothed the shirt down to admire his handy work. It was a strange feeling, wearing clothes that fit rather than ones that hung on you like a bloody tent. Harry reached for his robes, but whipped around quickly when he heard a loud _bang!_

"Bloody fucking hell!" Ron shouted from the bathroom. Harry heard him grunt as he walked quickly over to the bathroom to see what had happened.

"You okay?" he asked worriedly, peeking his head in.

Ron was standing next to the counter, shaking his head and flexing his fingers on one hand as if testing them out. Harry had to swallow, since Ron was wearing nothing but a towel. It didn't look like it was around his waist very securely, either.

"Fell again," he said bitterly.

Harry chuckled.

"You seem to have a habit of doing that," he said, smirking. Ron couldn't quite hide his grin as he reached for his toothbrush.

Harry walked over and grabbed his too, along with his own toothpaste that he probably wouldn't be able to live without now.

It was called Shinkle Shine's Shimmering Toothpaste (_Two minutes to tooth tranquility!_), and he had discovered it one year while restocking his trunk for school. The witch at the counter had said it was expensive, but well worth the money due to its deep-cleaning magic and whatever else she had said. He figured, eh, he was rich, why not? So he bought it.

Best fucking purchase ever. Muggle toothpaste couldn't even compare. It was sad, really, that he took so much pleasure in such a small luxury, but the Dursleys would do that to you. Plus, he liked to be clean.

He spit the foamy toothpaste back into the sink after having scrubbed thoroughly, then rinsed and shoved his items back into his section of the medicine cabinet. Harry didn't bother shaving. It took him about a week to even get stubble, and his face right now was pitifully smooth.

"So, what do we have today for classes?" Harry asked, leaning on the counter by the sinks. The toothpaste made his breath come out in icy mist for a few minutes after brushing, but it usually died down before breakfast.

"I think Slughorn is first," Ron said, dragging the razor against his cheek.

"Ugh," Harry said, eyeing Ron's chest freely. He figured he was allowed to now. "He'll probably ask me why I missed that party or whatever it was. At least Hermione has a legitimate excuse."

"Are they really that bad?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought being an 'elite' was supposed to be prestigious and honorable?"

"Shut up," Harry said, unable to hide his grin while Ron chuckled and rinsed his face.

"By the way, your arse looks really hot in those. I'm saying that because I can. So there."

And he walked out, the towel slipping a bit lower with each step.

"Good to know," Harry replied, grinning at his own reflection.

* * *

><p>"So Harry, I've been thinking about this whole 'Ron' thing," Hermione muttered to him in Potions. Ron had volunteered to go get their ingredients from the cupboard, after which she had immediately turned to him with a glint in her eye.<p>

"Oh, er, actually," Harry said sheepishly, "He…er…well…"

"You're not thinking of backing down, are you? I told you, Harry, you have to at least _talk _to him about it."

"Well, he actually got to me first," Harry said quickly, so that she wouldn't interrupt again.

"What do you mean?" she drew her eyebrows together.

"Oh god," Harry muttered, leaning forward on the desk for support. "Okay, brace yourself. I sort of saw him…er…wanking, and I…Jesus…couldn't really bring myself to look away. He was just so…"

He felt heat in his cheeks again, but Hermione fluttered her hand and said "Go on!"

"Hot, I guess," Harry continued, ducking his head in embarrassment. "So, he caught me watching, and then came over and said that he had actually _heard _me talk in my sleep. That night I had the dream about him."

"Ah," Hermione said, eyes wide.

"Apparently he's known since then. He even knows that _you_ know."

"Was he…erm…accepting?" she asked warily.

"More than accepting," Harry said. He fought hard, but that damn foolish grin spread on his face again and he looked away. But it was too late, she undoubtedly interpreted what it meant.

"Ooooooh," she said, her brown eyes lighting up. "Wait, you didn't…you know."

"What? No," Harry shook his head quickly. "I mean, we're new to all this, so I don't even…I just…it was just a…it wasn't 'the whole thing'. You know?"

"I get it," she assured him, smirking a bit. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?"

"He wants to keep it secret," Harry said lowly.

"Why?" she said, looking a bit offended.

"He's not ashamed or anything," Harry said, coming to Ron's defense. "At least, that's what he said. It was actually sort of nice, really. He said he didn't want everyone to bother me about something _else,_ now that I'm not a nutter anymore. He said _the Prophet_ would probably get a hold of it, which they probably would, and then Voldemort would know too. It actually made a lot of sense."

"Yes, I was actually a bit worried about that myself," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Not to mention, anyone you date will probably…well…"

"What?" Harry said, frowning.

"Don't take this the wrong way," she said cautiously, "But he'd probably be in a bit more danger if Voldemort ever found out who you were…er…infatuated with."

Harry groaned and put his head in his hands. How had he forgotten that? How could he forget that everyone he ever loved was always ripped away from him at the hands of that monster?

Ron returned, cradling a bunch of jars and slimy things before setting them down. He sat on Harry's other side, their legs touching underneath the table.

"What's the matter?" he asked, undoubtedly seeing Harry's woeful state.

"I'm a selfish bastard and everyone I touch dies," he replied. He was pretty sure it was muffled from his hands, but Ron apparently got the message.

"What did you do?" Ron said, narrowing his eyes at Hermione. She raised her hands in defense.

"I didn't mean to. It was probably stupid to say, actually," she reflected, grimacing.

"Harry, you're not selfish," Ron said soothingly. Harry had never heard his voice so gentle before, and he could see Ron duck his head to be level with his own. "And I won't die. I haven't yet, so that's good, right? Think of all the times I could have."

True.

"I suppose," Harry sighed. He couldn't help but remember, though, that Sirius had seemed just as invincible as Ron.

"We just need to relax, try to have a good year where we're not being chased or fought, and forget all the shit that's been happening recently," Ron said, chopping up some sort of organ a bit more violently than necessary. He shot a look at Hermione, who smiled sheepishly in return.

Harry had to admit that his cock tingled a bit when Ron was so rough. He smiled slightly and grabbed a knife in order to help prepare the ingredients.


	9. Killing Me

Ron had hoped that, since he and Harry finally recognized their 'more-than-friendship' friendship, his share of random Harry-induced hard-ons would have subsided a bit.

Unfortunately, they only seemed to increase in frequency.

Now that he had felt that cock, heard those breathless whimpers, and seen that flushed, aroused face, everything Harry did pretty much turned him on. The way his little pink tongue would dart out every once in a while to taste the end of his Sugar Quill during note-taking drove him positively mad. Ron would have to hide them if he was ever going to survive the year without failing all his classes. Also, he would stare out the window with wide green eyes when he was bored, looking so innocently delicious. He always smelled minty, was constantly biting that plump lower lip of his, and had also at one point leaned over a desk as Parvati asked him a question about something or other. Ron hadn't heard the question, for he was imagining just what Harry would look like bent over that desk a bit more forcefully.

And then, since Malfoy felt the need to spell Harry's book bag so that it would fall open in the hallway, Ron had been forced to watch him bend over and gather those books at a terribly slow pace, his arse facing him full on.

He felt like some sort of predator, and Harry an innocent gazelle.

Thank god the school robes were so loose-fitting. Otherwise, his erection wouldn't have gone unnoticed.

They were again in Transfiguration and Ron was staring intently at his blank parchment, which was supposed to be filled with class notes. If he looked up, Harry would probably be blowing the quill again and he just couldn't take it.

"Ron? You okay?"

"You don't know what you're doing to me," he said, still not looking up.

"What?" Harry sounded puzzled. "Why are you all sweaty?"

Only six more hours to go.

* * *

><p>Ron shoved Harry against the wall, attacking his mouth almost instantly.<p>

He had made up some random excuse to detour them from their path to the Great Hall. Finding the first empty classroom he could, Ron knew that Harry was all his for at least thirty-five minutes.

Harry moaned, arching into him and letting his head fall back against the rough stone. Ron pushed his tongue into that hot mouth and devoured it with vigor.

Mint. It was glorious.

"Oh, yeah," Harry sighed as Ron nipped lightly down his neck.

The soft skin tasted so good under his tongue. He had been dreaming of this all day, and his cock rejoiced as he sucked and nibbled, Harry panting before him and just letting him have it.

"You've been killing me all day," Ron muttered between kisses.

"You're one to talk," Harry replied above him breathlessly. "You keep getting this hungry look in your eyes. It's driving me mad."

Ron groaned, feeling Harry's excitement against his thigh. He pushed his leg between Harry's and began rubbing against him, desperate for friction. His hands clutched at the other boy's waist for dear life, pulling him closer.

"Mmm, yeah," Harry breathed in his ear. "Uhn…right there."

Ron moved to his earlobe and began nipping at that too.

"Fuck," Harry said, closing his eyes.

"You like it?" Ron teased, reaching down between them to grab him through his robes briefly. Harry moaned again, nodding.

He couldn't help but feel extremely lucky as he ran his fingers through wild black hair. Here he was, only yesterday wishing he could gather the courage to do this. Now, he was, with an equally eager Harry on the other end of his lips. They were snogging like any other crazy teenage couple would, and it felt fantastic.

Ron grunted against his skin, running his hand over Harry's clothed chest while the other stayed gripping his hair. Harry snuck his hand up and quickly ripped off his glasses to get them out of the way, then ran his tongue along Ron's lower lip, making him shiver.

They tongued each other viciously, only separating to breathe a second at a time. Ron could feel Harry's hand on the back of his neck, playing with the small curls there that formed when his mum couldn't catch him quick enough to cut his hair before school started. Winter was always cold, and he didn't want short hair while he was freezing his arse off on the pitch.

Thinking about Quidditch, and what had happened last time they practiced, only made Ron nip at Harry's bottom lip a little harder.

When they emerged from the classroom a few minutes later, Ron couldn't help feel that it had been a stupid idea. They were both worked up and sporting wood, which they didn't feel brave enough to take care of in a classroom midday.

So, they headed down to lunch.

"Well, how was Pigwidgeon?" Hermione asked, smirking at them. She probably noticed their flushed faces, but whatever.

"He's fine," Ron challenged, giving her a 'don't push it' look.

Just then, the little owl nearly dropped out of the sky, holding a large rolled up letter. Ron sighed in defeat, his excuse trashed to bits, and took the thick roll off his spindly little leg. He was surprised it wasn't broken.

Ron poked a few tiny pieces of toast into his beak (Pig choked easily if he ate too much), to which he hooted gratefully and took off.

Then he turned to the letter and unrolled it, wondering what the hell it was. Also, why hadn't it come in the morning with all the other mail?

"What is tha – " Harry stopped talking and stared.

Ron stared too, eyes wide in horror.

It was apparently a magazine. He had completely forgotten his plea to Witch Weekly he had sent drunkenly last night, due to the alcohol and events following. So when he gazed down at the cover of his requested help, he couldn't help but think that this would probably get him anything_ but_ help.

The picture on the front was of a bloke, probably early twenties, shirtless and wearing nothing but open robes and, thankfully, underwear. If it could be called that. His chiseled stomach and pectorals were unavoidable, and his golden tanned skin was too dark for anyone who lived here. Probably _American_, Ron thought, glaring jealously. His blonde hair shone and baby blue eyes gazed up at the reader seductively, blinking slow and playful. A hint of a smirk played on his lips, but not enough to hide their poutiness as they opened ever-so-slightly next to the tip of his wand, which was held lazily in his right hand.

Ron quickly flipped the magazine over to hide the cover. His cheeks burned as he realized he had been staring a bit too long.

"Wow," Harry said distantly.

"What the bloody hell is this?" Ron hissed furiously. "I didn't ask for bloody _porn_!"

He saw a small yellow envelope on the table, which had fallen from the magazine, and ripped it open angrily.

_Dear Mr. Wazlib,_

_I do realize that this magazine may not be what you quite had in mind, but I assure you, aside from its…suggestive pictures, it includes a great deal of advice columns, articles, and overall information on dealing with situations like yours. Young wizards who just wish to deal with these problems, but are unsure how to go about it. If you give it a chance, I think it will be able to assist you in discovering a bit more about how being a homosexual can be just as acceptable as being 'straight'._

_I do wish you good luck in your endeavors, but know that love presents itself in the most unexpected ways. Sometimes it creeps up on us, and others it jumps out like a wild Dragon, ready to cause you a world of pain. However, it is always better to be prepared._

_Sincerely,_

_Brunhilda Phunkhauzer_

Ron stared at the last name before looking up and contemplating it. The woman didn't seem out to get him, so he let it slide.

He sighed, figuring why the hell not? He would give it look-over.

But later.

"You're keeping it?" Harry said incredulously as Ron shoved it into his book bag.

"Yeah," he said, shrugging. "The lady said it had a bunch of articles and everything, so I'll give it a try."

"What lady?" Harry said, scowling at the man on the cover as it disappeared into the bag.

"Well, I sort of…wrote to the 'Witch Weekly' people to try and see if they could give me any advice on how to handle all this," he gestured between him and Harry to signify what he meant.

"Hm," Harry said, sounding bitter.

"Neville suggested it," Ron assured him. "I'm not looking for a good wank or anything, mate." He leaned in closer and muttered, "That's what I have _you_ for…"

Harry chuckled a little, his cheeks tinting slightly pink as he picked at his lunch with a fork.

"In fact, last night, I was thinking about you," Ron whispered, trying his best to sound seductive. "I came to the image of your pretty little mouth around my – "

"This is great pumpkin juice today, isn't it?" Harry practically screamed, lifting his goblet quickly. His face was beat red.

"Oh, _please,_" Hermione said across from them, rolling her eyes.

Ron smirked and turned back to his food as well.

* * *

><p>"Oh my god," Harry said after his bishop moved into place. He stood slowly to look at the board better. "Is that…? It is! Oh my god! Checkmate!"<p>

"Queen to E-4," Ron said flatly. The white piece flew over and punched the little bishop in the side, shattering it into several pieces.

Harry flopped back against his chair and huffed angrily. Ron couldn't help but notice he was cute when he crossed his arms like that. Well, he was cute when he did anything.

After finally coaxing him to join a game (which required fifteen minutes of incessant pleading), Ron had tried to go easy on him, but it just wasn't in his nature. He had to admit, though. Harry was getting better. That last one had a few sneaky moves in it.

Which he had seen through, of course.

So Ron laughed and patted Harry on the arm when it was _him_ in checkmate five moves later.

"Sorry, mate. Maybe one day," he said, grinning sheepishly.

Harry glared, but then shook his head and laughed as well.

"I just don't think it's ever going to happen."

"Yeah, maybe not."

"Have you two finished your essays for Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Hermione said from across the room.

The two boys sighed in unison.

"No," Ron said, dragging himself up from the armchair opposite Harry's. Harry followed suit, walking with him a bit closer than usual, which made him smile slightly.

He couldn't help feeling that this whole thing, while being very difficult, was also much, much easier than he had thought it would be.


	10. Do You?

Harry nibbled his Sugar Quill as he stared at Ron. The redhead was scribbling on a large roll of parchment, looking as though he desperately wanted to get the essay done, and fast. Harry didn't blame him. These things were torturous.

If Voldemort employed this instead of the Cruciatus Curse, he would probably have way more followers.

But instead, they did the grueling work while the clock ticked lazily in the background. Hermione was writing furiously, almost quick enough to where she was a blur. Harry didn't envy Snape either, for he was the one who had to read it. She had long since exceeded the two-roll limit and was almost on her fourth. No doubt she had lots to say after her long departure from school, and Snape was the one paying for it.

Though, Harry's sympathy was limited, because he had assigned the damn thing in the first place. Plus, it was Snape.

He sighed, managing another sentence or two before gazing up at that dark red hair again. Harry couldn't help but notice the adorable curls that just barely formed at the edges. That always happened when Mrs. Weasley wasn't quick enough with her wand. Harry liked it a bit longer.

Plus, now it gave him something to hold onto.

He could feel his skin heating up through the collar of his robes, so he hastily pulled a book over to check what type of spells were repelled by whatever amulet he was researching at the moment.

"I need that when you're done," Ron said exasperatedly, leaning on his elbows and pulling a hand through his own hair.

Harry nodded, writing down the spells on a scrap piece of parchment. He handed over the giant tome, which Ron took before smiling gratefully. Perhaps the smile held a bit more though, because after that Ron winked.

Harry bit his lower lip, trying to hold it together. Jesus, you'd think he was some hormonal teenager with how he was reacting all the time.

Well…

Finally, Harry wrote his concluding sentence and threw his quill down triumphantly. He slumped back in his chair feeling worn out, but pleased. Snape could suck it.

Gross.

"Done?" Ron asked, looking up briefly from his writing.

"Yep," Harry said. "You almost finished?"

"Sort of," Ron sighed, scratching his cheek with the end of his quill. "You going to bed?"

Harry wondered what exactly to do. Were they going to sleep in the same bed now, or not? He wouldn't deny that being wrapped in those arms every night would be heavenly. But people would be suspicious if Ron was never in his own bed anymore. And what if they got caught?

"I think so," Harry said, looking at him for any signs of offense.

"Okay. I'll probably be up in a million hours, so let me sleep in as much as possible tomorrow," he said, chuckling slightly. Harry nodded.

He stood and gathered his things, waving the essay a bit to dry the ink out. God, he didn't need to smear the whole thing after he was finally done with it…

After he said goodnight to both of them and turned to leave, he hesitated near Ron's seat. There was no one else in the common room except the three of them, so he could do whatever he wanted. Would just leaving like always be rude, or normal? He was unsure how to go about all this 'couple' stuff.

He turned and saw Hermione looking up at him from the table. Ron had returned to his essay, probably thinking he had left already. Hermione jerked her head ever-so-slightly in Ron's direction, which he hadn't noticed.

Harry looked down at him, still feeling embarrassed that he didn't know what to do.

So he swooped down and gave a quick kiss to Ron's cheek, blushing all the while. Ron looked up, seeming a bit surprised, but soon smiled bashfully and looked back down at his paper.

"Goodnight," Harry mumbled, and then ran quickly up the stairs to the boys' dorm.

* * *

><p>He sighed as he flopped onto his bed, staring up at the canopy.<p>

Harry had barely dated _one_ person, _one_ time, and it had ended terribly. He was completely inexperienced for this sort of thing. His first kiss had been to a crying Cho Chang, who was probably only doing it as a means to hear about her dead boyfriend later. Plus, she had been a girl.

Kissing Ron was monumentally different. With Cho, it had been wet because of the tears and some sort of glossy stuff she had been wearing on her lips. Plus, it had felt a bit awkward. Ron was good at snogging, that was for sure. Harry briefly wondered if he had gotten any experience in it. Ron had never said anything, so maybe he was just a natural. Or perhaps Harry was so bad that Ron just seemed exceptionally good. He sighed, wishing he had the courage to ask. Perhaps he would later.

He could hear the snoring of the other boys in the dorm, as it was well past midnight.

Harry couldn't help it, now that Ron had crept into his thoughts. He thought of the empty classroom earlier today, and how good it had felt to have that tongue exploring his neck so thoroughly. Ron seemed rather fond of biting, but hell if Harry was about to complain. It felt slightly dominating…and naughty.

Harry bit his lip, fending off an erection with all his might.

But then he remembered what Ron had revealed that day, about asking the Witch Weekly people for help. He hadn't been able to control his jealousy that Ron was already looking at another bloke, the one on the cover of 'Wicked Wizards Weekly', who was probably much better looking than himself. Even if Harry had been unable to keep from staring too…

But his jealousy was tamed a bit by the fact that Ron was trying really hard to handle this right. So much so that he was able to receive a highly embarrassing magazine in the middle of the Great Hall and hide it effectively. Harry hadn't even told Ron anything about his own feelings before they had 'gotten together'. He had just struggled with it internally, like he did everything else.

Perhaps he could make up for it.

Sighing again, Harry got out of bed and walked over to Ron's. He reached under the mattress, where he had seen Ron stuff the magazine earlier, and pulled it out.

The cocky bastard on the front, whom Harry discovered was named 'Brad', stared up at him while licking his lips. Harry gulped nervously.

He sat on Ron's bed, pulled the curtains closed, and hesitantly opened the magazine to see what was inside.

The first page had a table of contents, which he skimmed for clues. He saw several suggestive titles, many including the word 'wand', until he got to the 'Quizzes and Lists' section. Finally, he found what he was looking for.

At lunch, Ron had revealed that he had been thinking of Harry while wanking. Harry hadn't even known. He had just been mesmerized to turn over and see a clearly aroused, panting Ron Weasley across from him through a gap in the curtains. The fact that he had stared into his eyes while he came probably should have tipped him off, though.

Anyways, Ron had been saying he was imagining Harry's mouth around him. He had been too embarrassed to hear the rest, and didn't want to get hard in front of the Great Hall. Now, however, maybe he could find a way to give Ron that particular fantasy, seeing as how Ron had technically fulfilled his. Well, his first one…

But they would cross the other bridge later.

He flipped to the 'Quizzes and Lists' section, then to the list marked 'Five Great Tips to Giving Head'. Just reading the title made him heat up with embarrassment, but he would have to get over it quickly if he was ever going to actually _do _it.

So he read the section silently to himself:

_Five Great Tips to Giving Head_

_We've all been there. The first time giving your boyfriend oral sex, but you aren't exactly sure how to go about it correctly. You want it to feel good for him, but you also don't want to make a fool of yourself. This article will definitely help in making sure you give your mate the best pleasure he can receive, and all because of you! Soon, these tips will have him calling your name and coming down your throat in no time._

_1. Length of time doesn't really matter._

_A blow job can last as long as you like. Varying speed and technique can make him last a bit longer, or working up to a steady fast pace will have him blowing his load quickly._

_2. Make all the noise you want._

_Slurping, sucking, moaning and humming can all add to his experience. Many guys like knowing that you enjoy giving it as much as he enjoys receiving it. Humming against him also sends vibrations, which can feel even better during the heat of the moment._

_3. Make eye contact._

_Many guys enjoy seeing you look up at them while giving them head. Others may not, however, for their own personal reasons, so always be sure to observe what they may like or dislike during the experience. Some guys also enjoy taking control of the situation by holding your head still or setting the pace themselves, which will help you understand how they like it._

_4. Know your boy's magic spots._

_The head of the penis is the most sensitive. Sucking down at least a few inches past it is one way to give it pleasure, though exploring the head thoroughly with your tongue is also very stimulating. The base of the penis is not quite as important, but relaxing your throat and taking him deeply or wrapping your hand around the base and stroking there are both quite adequate enough to pleasure him thoroughly. Massaging the taint (area behind the testicles but before the anus) with either your tongue or hand can also feel good, but if he is uncomfortable being touched there, then don't push it. Again, make sure what he is and is not comfortable with by carefully gauging his reactions._

_5. Don't stop when he starts to come._

_Slowing or softening your movements will suffice, but you can draw out his pleasure by continuing to give head through the orgasm. If you are uncomfortable with swallowing his cum, ask ahead of time that he tell you before he ejaculates, and continue then on using your hand instead._

Harry finally finished reading and set the magazine down. The fact that he was hard now didn't seem like such a surprise.

He felt a bit better. He wouldn't have guessed half those things without hours of practice and bumbling through the whole thing. Now he had a better idea of what the hell he was going to do. Now, it was Ron's turn to be surprised…

"Harry?"

Right on time.

"Hey," Harry said sheepishly as Ron drew back the curtains to his own bed.

"What's up?" he asked curiously. His eyes fell on the magazine, then between Harry's legs where it was probably obvious he was hard.

"Oh, no!" he whispered hurriedly. He didn't want to wake the others. "I wasn't – I mean, I was just looking, and I found – "

Ron chuckled. "It's okay, mate. I wanted to look through it too. Just curious, you know?"

Harry nodded, and Ron sat next to him on the bed. They faced each other like gossiping schoolgirls.

"Actually, er, there was a reason I looked," Harry said, avoiding Ron's curious eyes.

"Yeah? Why?"

"I wanted to try something," Harry said. "But I'll probably not be very good, so just bear with me, okay?"

"Okay," Ron said, raising an eyebrow.

Harry pushed him back gently, to which Ron's eyes widened a bit. He leaned back against the headboard so that he was propped up slightly and Harry took a deep breath.

He pulled the curtains closed first so that no one would see them.

"_Muffliato,"_ Harry whispered, waving his wand. He was going to try and make this good, and not having to worry about being overheard would certainly help.

"Never thought of that," Ron said, a little breathless. He was looking at Harry, seemingly trying to anticipate what was going to happen.

Harry reached for Ron's robes and pulled them up, trying to remove them.

Ron groaned, and then helped him take them off as he said, "Is this what I think it is?"

"Maybe," Harry said, a bit smugly.

"Fuck," Ron muttered, throwing the robes to the floor. He had been wearing a simple t-shirt and boxers underneath them.

Harry reached for the boxers, looking up to try and judge his reaction. Ron had that hungry look in his eyes again, so Harry figured it was okay.

He pulled them over Ron's semi-hard cock and slid them down his legs. Ron lifted his hips to aid him, but otherwise just watched in anticipation. Harry looked down at Ron, who drew his knees up a bit to plant his feet on the bed. His legs were open still, his proud cock standing amongst a small patch of red hair. Harry chuckled a bit.

Firecrotch.

Ron's length, however, was a bit intimidating at its full size. Judging mentally by comparing his eleven inch wand, which he was used to holding on a daily basis, Harry would guess that Ron was between eight and nine inches. He swallowed, trying to calm his nerves.

He then took Ron in hand for the first time, looking up at him again to see his reaction as he stroked slowly.

Ron closed his eyes, letting his head fall back and groaning again. Harry bit his lower lip to prevent a grin. He liked that noise, and hopefully would hear it more as the night went on.

Harry leaned down, Ron being fully hard now, and lay somewhat on his stomach to level himself with Ron's cock. The redhead opened his eyes to watch, and Harry finally took him into his mouth in one move.

He began licking the head, just like the magazine told him to do, and Ron's hips jerked slightly before he stilled them, almost like he was surprised. Harry worked his way down slowly, trying his best to get the feel of this before he started some sort of rhythm or anything.

"Fuck," Ron said breathlessly, which made Harry look up at him. "You look so hot right now."

Harry smirked internally. It seemed he was doing fine…

He grabbed the base of Ron's cock to hold it steady as he bobbed up and down a few times. He moaned against it, feeling himself hard as well. He didn't know if it was Ron's heavy breathing or just the fact that he was enjoying it that made Harry aroused too.

Harry sucked loudly, remembering the list again, and moved his hand along the base to stroke it. He then let go, relaxed his throat as much as he could, and pushed forward to try and take as much in as possible.

"Oh," Ron gasped, reaching down and tangling a hand in his wild black hair. Ron didn't force him down, but Harry could tell it was taking a great effort not to.

He pulled back up and did it again, making Ron writhe slightly beneath him. He was panting and moaning loudly as Harry continued, not having to worry about anyone hearing them. He noticed it was a bit easier to take him deeper into his throat each time he tried.

Harry put one hand on Ron's hip, then moved the other between his legs. Time to try something else.

Looking up and 'making eye contact', Harry caressed the skin behind Ron's bollocks like the magazine suggested with his thumb. Ron's hips twitched forward and he moaned again, clutching his hair tighter as well as the sheets with his other hand.

"Don't stop," he breathed, eyes closed and head leaning back. Apparently he wasn't uncomfortable being touched there, so Harry continued.

His face was flushed and he was clearly enjoying it. Harry couldn't help but feel a bit proud of himself for having made him that way. It was him who was pleasuring Ron, not anybody else.

Harry nudged his legs farther apart and Ron let them fall to the sides completely, still bent at the knees. He continued to move up and down Ron's length while stroking the skin below with his thumb. It seemed to drive him wild, and he began thrusting his hips up gently to meet Harry's mouth.

"Uhn, yeah," he said to the ceiling, his voice becoming more desperate. Harry assumed this meant he was close, so he moved a bit faster.

He brought his other hand up to that sculpted chest to rub over Ron's nipple briefly, wondering if that would get a reaction. It did, because Ron turned his head to the side and moaned again. His hand relaxed in his hair, but still remained and caressed it slightly, egging him on.

Harry was looking up at his face to see his cheeks pink with arousal. His eyes were closed and he wore an expression of pure bliss, his freckles only adding to an illusion of innocence.

But Harry knew that he was being anything but innocent, what with him thrusting up into the mouth of another boy.

"Fuck, Harry," Ron said breathlessly, looking down at him now. Crystal blue eyes shone with passion as his hips never stopped moving. "You're gonna make me come. Are you sure you want to – "

Harry nodded, still moving up and down and rubbing Ron's sweet spot. It made him convulse every once in a while when he pressed just right.

"Jesus…" Ron said, letting his head fall back again. His stomach muscles were tensed beautifully as he gripped the sheet and his hair tightly again.

Harry felt Ron's thrusting becoming a bit more erratic, and he prepared himself for what was undoubtedly to come.

"Oh, oh," Ron whined, his body stiffening.

Harry sucked the head hard, and heard him cry out. His cock twitched and a thick, creamy fluid filled Harry's mouth almost instantly. It still surprised him, even though he knew it was coming, and he tried to swallow as quickly as he could.

It didn't taste particularly good, but he swallowed it anyways and figured it was better than having him come all over the place. Plus, Ron was pretty hot mid-orgasm. It was the first time Harry had seen him reduced to a writhing, moaning mess.

When his hips stilled and he relaxed back against the headboard, his breathing started slowly returning to normal. Harry released him from his mouth and sat up, unable to hide a smirk.

"Was it good?" Harry asked.

"Where the hell did you learn to do that?" Ron asked, looking at him with heavily lidded eyes.

Harry pointed to the magazine, which Ron stared at.

"Well, that was a good investment, then," he said, laughing slightly. Ron reached out and Harry moved forward and in between his legs.

Ron kissed him roughly, battling his tongue against Harry's. Harry grunted softly, still feeling his own hardness, which was becoming a bother. He didn't doubt that Ron could feel it pressed into him.

"Apparently I'm not the only one who liked it, eh?" Ron teased, pushing his hips upward into Harry's.

Harry grunted slightly into Ron's neck. He could feel the spent cock rubbing against his own, and pretty much any friction at this point would feel good. However, knowing that it was Ron's _naked_ cock, made it just a bit better.

"Want me to take care of you?" he mumbled into Harry's scalp, his hand creeping slowly down to his arse.

Harry tried not to sound too needy as he said, "No, I can…er…I can do it. That was just for you."

He sat up to go to his own bed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. Harry wasn't entirely sure why, either. He had just sucked off his boyfriend, but he was afraid of his _own_ erection? What sense did that make?

Perhaps it wasn't that, but how incredibly randy he was all the time. Especially for Ron.

He felt an arm around his waist before he could struggle out of the bed. The _muffliato_ spell hadn't been broken, so Ron spoke in a normal tone of voice that was concealed by the light buzzing.

"But what if I _want _to?" he said. His mouth was so close Harry could feel the breath on his neck, and whenever Ron used that rough tone of voice…well…

There was no fighting it.

Harry was pushed down on the bed now, but on his stomach instead. It tingled with anticipation as Ron hovered over his back, pushing down between his shoulder blades forcefully to keep him there. Ron snaked an arm around his waist again and lifted his hips, putting him in what felt like a very vulnerable position.

Harry wondered why it made him even harder.

The hand on his waist moved to unbutton his pyjama bottoms, disposing of the obstacle quickly. Ron's breathing was slightly ragged and he was nipping at the back of his neck while pushing into his trousers from the front.

"You're a bit kinky, Harry," Ron said seductively next to his ear.

Harry grunted again, feeling fingers close around his erection. His hips jerked forward, seeking that wicked hand and what it was capable of.

"You like sucking my cock, don't you?" Ron continued. His voice was rough with lust and Harry could feel his still-bare cock pressing against his pyjama-clad arse. "I can tell it made you hard. Do you like having me come down your throat?"

Harry gasped. He hadn't ever heard Ron talk so dirty before. One minute he had been a quivering mess of ecstasy, and now he was this rough, dominating force. It made Harry's breath quicken as he felt Ron stroking him firmly.

"Do you?" he pressed teasingly.

"Uhn, yes," Harry closed his eyes. His cheek was pushed into the pillow so that his answer was a bit muffled, but Ron had undoubtedly heard the quiver in his voice.

"I like it too. I like having your hot little mouth round me like that," he breathed seductively.

Harry could already feel the tensing in his stomach. Ron's words were turning him on impossibly more with each second. He had a feeling Ron knew what he was doing…

He felt a hand tangle in his hair again, gripping it tightly and holding him still against the bed. Harry panted wildly, thrusting his hips with the rhythm of Ron's hand. He was so close…

"Next time, I want you to come down mine."

"Oh!" Harry cried softly, his body convulsing slightly as he came. Hot, white fluid flowed from him, into Ron's hand. Ron milked him for all of it, not stopping until his hips slowed and he finally relaxed.

Harry lay there, panting. He felt Ron pull his hand from his trousers, followed by a light kiss to the back of his neck. He smiled slightly into the pillow, liking the tenderness of it.

God, he was such a girl.


	11. Thinking

Ron sighed contentedly, falling onto the bed next to Harry. They were both lying on their stomachs, their heads turned to face each other. Harry's brilliant green eyes were already drifting closed.

He had never realized before how unique they were. Ron had never really stared into them long enough to notice, he guessed. He didn't even think that such a green was even _possible_ for human eyes. So bright and full of life, despite the fact that they were the color of a curse that had already tried to kill him. Fortunately for Ron, it hadn't succeeded on its intended target.

He saddened slightly when he thought of the life Harry had led so far. Such sadness was sometimes so strongly visible in those green eyes, despite how much Harry fought to hide it. If he was reflecting on past events or recovering from a recent tragedy (which was too often to count), that sadness would burst forth and smother everyone within reach. Ron always tried not to bring it up, but no one could deny Harry had lived a rough life.

He only hoped he could help make it better.

Harry had said once that he and Hermione were the best thing that had ever happened to him. Perhaps now that they were more than friends, Ron could give him a bit more happiness. Someone closer than that.

He sighed again, this time a bit hopefully, as he looked at the sleeping boy across from him. That wild, black sex-hair was perhaps even more rumpled than usual, but about twice as attractive. He found it odd that it somehow seemed long _and_ short at the same time. And thick. Nice and thick for him to hold onto.

He bit his lower lip, recalling the events that had just passed moments ago. Those memories would be perfect wanking material for a _long _time.

He had been somewhat surprised to see Harry still awake when he had come up to bed. At first he just thought Harry wanted to say goodnight or something. But then he had noticed that Harry was reading the new magazine, and that his cock was straining in his pyjama bottoms.

Ron had then again falsely assumed what Harry was doing. Perhaps just wanking to a magazine like any other teenager.

But no. Harry had, apparently, been studying, and not still for Snape's class. Ron had been pushed down and worked over by what felt like a very experienced prostitute. He had never in his life experienced as much pleasure as he did when Harry's hot, wet mouth had closed around him and started tonguing his slit like that. And then Harry had started touching him further down between his legs. Almost every nerve had been stimulated and was screaming for him to come by the end of it.

He was extremely grateful for that magazine.

And afterward, he had felt a bit guilty when Harry was obviously hard from the ordeal. Ron hadn't wanted to use his mouth because, frankly, he wanted to check that magazine himself first. After Harry's performance, he felt terribly inadequate in that department.

But Ron couldn't just leave him like that, so he reverted to what he knew how to do.

He suspected that Harry had some sort of thing with being…er…'dominated'. Every time Ron said or did something that was a bit controlling, Harry never got offended. In fact, he seemed to be turned on by it. So, Ron tried his best to be sexy and give Harry what he wanted. He talked dirty, held him down, and tried to get a good reaction. He did, and Harry seemed to like it. Ron couldn't deny that he liked being able to treat him a bit more rough than he could a girl.

Not to mention that sweet arse of his.

Perhaps they were moving a bit fast for this whole thing, but neither of them had had any practice at this. Ron was willing to go at whatever pace Harry wanted. Truthfully, he was just glad that Harry let him be with him at all.

And if he wanted to give Ron head, he would be damned before he complained about it.

At this, Ron grinned slightly, finally beginning to fall asleep. The last thing he remembered hearing was Harry's deep breathing beside him.

* * *

><p>"Ron, wake up."<p>

"Mmmnnnnooooooo," he groaned, burrowing further into the mess of blankets. They were so warm…so good…too tired…

"Ron…"

"Five more minutes," he begged, clenching his eyes shut to fight the day.

He felt a light kiss on the back of his neck. Then one on his cheek. Each one tingled where they had touched his skin, so he knew who it had to be.

A few more persistent kisses and he was reluctantly cracking his eyes open. Harry smirked triumphantly above him, looking tired as well. But awake.

"Is that all it takes?" he said, laughing slightly.

"What time is it?" Ron asked, ignoring his question. Apparently Harry had found a solid way to wake him up without violently shaking him.

"Time to get up," Harry said, kissing him once more, this time on the lips. He rolled out of the bed and threw open the curtains. Ron got a perfect view of that arse in low-hanging pyjama bottoms. They had a pattern of snitches and fit snugly around the curves of his backside, leaving little to the imagination. Ron felt a bit more awake now as he fought to keep from drooling.

But that bliss was over soon.

"Harry?"

Seamus's confused voice made Ron and Harry freeze simultaneously.

"What are you doin' in there, mate?" Seamus laughed slightly.

"Just waking me up," Ron said, his voice still rough from sleep. And panic.

Seamus nodded and pulled his shirt on. Ron breathed a quiet sigh of relief, which he heard Harry utter as well as he moved to his trunk.

Ron rolled out of bed and almost damn near fell to the floor, but he managed to keep it together. His limp cock, which was still exposed, hung heavy between his legs as he stumbled to his own trunk. He opened it and began rummaging around for clean clothes.

"Too close," he whispered to Harry, who chuckled and nodded in agreement.

When he had located an acceptable shirt and pair of boxers, he wandered to the bathroom to take a shower. Trying not to get an erection as he watched Harry next to him naked was very difficult, especially when Harry had reached down to wash his privates and Ron noticed he was still sporting a morning wood. Harry noticed his staring and winked, tugging at it suggestively. The suds running down that hard dick, making it all slippery and wet, made him fight to not drool again.

Cocky bastard.

Ron groaned and turned away to try and focus. If any of the other boys walked in and saw him staring at a partially-masturbating Harry Potter, there might be a few questions.

He could hear Harry chuckle, but ignored him. For both their sakes.

"So, what took you two?" Hermione asked during breakfast, smirking at him across the table.

Harry hid in his cereal, but Ron smirked back at her.

"Had to shower," Ron said simply. Harry's face darkened, but Ron left it at that.

She seemed a bit surprised, but laughed all the same.

"This is going to take some getting used to," Hermione said, taking a dainty bite of toast. "You finished your essay, right Ron?"

"Yeah," he rolled his eyes. "Took me another hour though. I spilled my ink, of course, and had to rewrite about half of a roll before I could continue. I'm not sure how good of a job I did, though."

"I bet it's fine," Harry added encouragingly.

Ron smiled down at his plate as he was assaulted by a warm tingly feeling in his stomach.

"Aww," Hermione cooed, clasping her hands together in an adoring fashion. "How cute!"

"Shut up," Harry muttered, looking away.

Ron would have defended him had he not been distracted by the owls swooping in. It was a bit more sudden than usual, so it must have been cold outside. Sometimes the owls sought out the warmth of the Great Hall.

He saw Erroll amongst them, looking a bit haggard. The poor thing was so old. He wished his mum would just get a new one and let Erroll spend the remainder of his life in peace.

When he finally landed, Ron patted him on the head, gave him a few bits of kippers, and allowed him to drink heartily from his goblet. While he was hooting tiredly, Ron took the letter from his leg.

It was mum, of course. No one else bothered to write, and usually her letters were about Harry anyways.

_Dear Ronald,_

_I wanted to remind you that your brother's birthday is on the 12__th__, so don't forget to send him a card or letter. Merlin knows the dragons won't give him one._

_Also deary, I was just wondering how Harry is faring with the latest news? I know it can be hard on the poor dear, what with all he's been through. All of these disappearances can't be doing many wonders on his confidence. Please remind him that we're all here for him and that if he wants to come home with you for the holidays, he is more than welcome. I'm picking out the yarn for his jumper tomorrow. What color do you reckon he would like best?_

_Sincerely,_

_Mum_

Ron rolled his eyes and put down the letter, folding it so Harry wouldn't see.

_Love you too, mum,_ he thought rather bitterly.

"What's your favorite color?" Ron asked him, turning over the parchment and rummaging for a quill in his book bag.

"Probably blue. Why?" he replied absentmindedly.

"No reason," Ron said, scribbling the lone word _blue_ on the back. He folded it up and stuffed it beneath the leather strap tied to Erroll's leg. The owl hooted, sounding exasperated, and took off again.

It wasn't that he was jealous of Harry. It was the fact that his own mother, who had so many children already, was once again overlooking himself, and not even for his own flesh and blood this time. Ron was used to it, of course. The ignorance from his parents. The bullying from his older siblings. Them all ganging up to defend each other, but never him. The babying of Ginny because she was the girl. He was always the youngest _boy_. Fragile, but not fragile enough. Able to take care of himself, but unable to stand up to his brothers. The only real outsider in his own home.

He saw his sister seated down the table, flirting with Dean yet again. He didn't deny that it bothered him, her dating boys now. As the only remaining brother at Hogwarts, he was expected to chase them away. For a while there, he would have given anything to have Harry just date her already.

But the flare of jealousy that ignited within him at the mere thought made only one word repeat itself in his head.

_Mine._

Ginny always got everything she wanted, but not this time.

Ron turned back to his kippers with a satisfied smile on his face.

* * *

><p>"So I've been thinking," Ron said hesitantly. They were in a quiet corner of the common room, waiting for dinner to start. The day's classes had been normal, with Ron trying not to get hard every second of the day with Harry next to him. Hopefully he hadn't missed anything important in the lectures today.<p>

"Yeah?" Harry said, looking up from his Quidditch book. It looked really boring to Ron, but whatever.

"Do you wanna come to my house for Christmas?" he asked.

Harry was clearly trying to disguise his joy, but those green eyes lighting up gave him away.

"Sure," Harry grinned, looking down at his book to try and hide it.

"Cool," he said, smiling back. He hesitated with the next part. "Erm…"

"What is it?" Harry asked, sounding a bit panicked now. He looked afraid that Ron might take the invitation away again.

Merlin, how insecure was he?

"Well…if you're there…d'you think…maybe…we should tell my parents?" Ron asked slowly.

"Oh," Harry relaxed, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah, if you want to."

He didn't sound worried or anything, which was a good sign. Ron didn't think his parents would overreact, or get angry, or kick them out, but he couldn't be _absolutely_ sure. They had never talked about this type of stuff. Being gay, and whatnot.

But he knew his mum loved Harry as much as any of her other children, and she would never go blabbing his secret to the press, even if she didn't approve of it. He kneaded his lower lip with his teeth, wondering what their reaction would be.

He couldn't stand it if they got angry with Harry.

"Are you nervous?" Harry asked quietly. He had obviously been reading his reaction.

"A bit," Ron admitted, nodding. "I just…we've never talked about anything like this, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry said sympathetically. "Well, it can't be worse than the Dursleys' reaction," he joked, though looked a bit bitter as he said it.

"Oh god, what would they even do?" he said, imagining the fat one's face. Well, the _fatter_ one, with the moustache.

"Probably just yell or kick me out," Harry said, shrugging. "They probably wouldn't want me around their 'precious Dudders'. Afraid I might molest him or something."

"Gross," Ron grimaced in disgust. The boy might be the smaller of the two fat ones, but he was equally as repulsive.

Harry laughed, his button nose crinkling as he did. Ron felt that warm tingly feeling again as he noticed the cuteness of it.

Ron had been so busy imagining Harry bent over every piece of furniture lately that he hadn't really noticed how attractive Harry's face was. Well, he knew Harry was attractive, but he had never noticed the details that came together to form such a picture.

Like how Harry's nose would crinkle only if he was _really_ laughing. Or how straight and white Harry's teeth were, even though he probably hadn't received much magical or muggle dental care. And his face was smooth with a visible jaw line, but was almost feminine in how gentle it was. His dark lashes made his eye color stand out, and he seemed to have a constant healthy glow to his cheeks. Though, that glow had been somewhat reduced last year after the death of Cedric and the constant scrutiny. But here it was again, returned in full force.

"You okay?" Harry said, cocking his head to the side a bit.

"Yeah," Ron replied in a strangled voice.

Harry chuckled, shrugging and returning to his book.

"So when do you want to tell them?" Harry asked without looking up.

"Probably before Christmas. If they _are_ going to freak out, I don't want it to be at Christmas dinner or something. That would probably be worse," he reasoned. Partially with himself.

"Makes sense."

"You sure you're okay with it, though?" Ron pressed. "If you don't want them to know, I'm totally okay."

"No, it's fine," Harry looked up reassuringly. "I don't mind."

"I just feel guilty not telling them. I don't know why," Ron continued, staring off into the distance. It wasn't as though he had never hidden anything from them before.

"Ron, it'll be okay," Harry said, patting him on the leg quickly. No one around them noticed, and the contact felt nice.

"Okay," he sighed, slumping back in his chair again.

He hoped he didn't regret it.


	12. Waiting

Harry smiled down at his paper, twirling his quill in a slightly giddy way.

To an outsider, he probably looked like a fool. Or like he had been stung by a Billywig, which they had discovered he was allergic to. Harry was to never eat another Fizzing Whizzbee as long as he lived.

But no, it was merely his bashful reaction to having caught Ron staring at him across the room. Harry didn't deny that he liked it. The fact that he could induce such a dazed look from mere eye contact and a run of his tongue along his own lip was quite flattering. And then Ron would be lost for pretty much the remainder of the class.

Harry also didn't deny that he had been thinking…things. He had hoped, now that they were technically together, that his wild sexual fantasies would be quieted a bit. But every broom closet they passed was accompanied by the mental image of him being thrown inside and ravaged thoroughly. How he wished he was brave enough to make those fantasies true…

Perhaps in time.

Harry saw Hermione reach over and shake Ron's shoulder violently. He glared at her, to which she glared right back and mumbled something fierce. Ron rolled his eyes and gazed down at his paper.

He was staring again in mere seconds, though.

But Harry realized that he had noticed nice things about Ron too. Weird things. Like how sometimes, his hair could appear to be a totally different shade of red than it was just a minute ago, perhaps due to the lighting. And when he laughed, his sprinkling of freckles made it so much more adorable that it practically crippled Harry when he almost fell down the stairs once. Those freckles had never done that to him _before_. Maybe he had never taken the time to notice?

But his blue eyes were the worst. They were so clear and bright that it nearly blinded him to look at. Like little sapphires reflecting the light everywhere and piercing right through you, as if he knew your every thought. Harry wondered if he was able to read minds and just never said anything about it.

It would certainly explain his undefeatable chess strategies.

_Ron,_ Harry thought hard, staring intently. _Ron, I know you can hear me._

But he was busy staring out of a window and appearing to cool down. His cheeks had been a bit pink, so Harry wondered what he had been thinking about.

Well, he sort of knew.

It had been a few days since their last encounter of a sexual nature. Harry knew Ron was dying for another blow job because he kept staring as his lips and whimpering every once in a while. But they had decided to try and be a bit more convincing with their act of 'friends who _weren't _constantly picturing filthy things about each other', and were trying to sleep in their own beds. A few snogging sessions before everyone made it up to the dorm was the only contact they had had intimately for four days. But now that he had been given a taste of what Ron's hand was capable of, wanking just wasn't the same anymore. It seemed even more pitiful now.

So, Harry figured he would sneak into Ron's bed tonight and see what he could do to ease their suffering. They had pretended long enough and could afford a bit of risk. After all, taking chances was sort of his thing.

Neville leaned over now and whispered something to Ron, who jumped. He had still been staring out the window, unaware of his surroundings. When Neville laughed and Ron glared, Harry couldn't help but smirk. His face seemed a bit redder than it was before, so apparently Harry wasn't the only one getting ideas…

* * *

><p>"Hey, Harry, you wanna help me make this bloody card for Charlie? I dunno how to make it sing…"<p>

"Why are you giving him a card?" Harry asked, sitting down opposite Ron. His red hair was dark in contrast with the bright red decorations of the common room.

"It's his birthday tomorrow," Ron sighed, looking like it was a heavy burden that no one should have to bear.

"You poor thing," Harry said sarcastically. He couldn't help but feel that, should he have been given a brother, he would damn well send a card every fucking day of his life for just being alive.

"Well I'm doing it, aren't I?" Ron defended slightly. "He never sends _me_ a bloody card. I doubt he even knows my birthday."

He stared at Harry intently, as if expecting something. Harry rolled his eyes.

"March first," he said exasperatedly. "Arse."

Ron smiled triumphantly and handed over the card. It had a fairly well drawn picture of a dragon on it, which Ron had actually charmed to shoot drawn-out flames every few seconds. Harry nodded, chuckling and handing it back.

"And you want to make it sing too?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Know how to do that?"

"I think it's pretty good already," Harry said, shrugging. "Singing would probably be too much."

"I was going to get him one with bubbles and annoying singing like Hermione's, but I don't have that much money," Ron said, turning a bit pink now. He always did whenever finances were concerned.

"I could've helped you out," Harry offered in vain.

"No, no. I mean, it's okay. Plus, Hogsmeade isn't this weekend. But you think it's alright as is?" he said hopefully.

"Yeah, it's really nice," Harry grinned encouragingly.

"Alright," he said, shrugging and taking up a quill. He scribbled on the inside _'Happy Birthday Charlie' _and then stuffed it in an envelope.

Ron looked around the common room, then down at his watch. He bit his lower lip as he did, making Harry quiver slightly.

"Wanna help me take this to the Owlery?" he asked, waving the envelope slightly. Harry nodded, standing with him and turning to the portrait hole.

"Where are you going?" Hermione asked curiously from her armchair as they passed.

"Owlery," Ron said simply.

"Ron's got to mail a card to his big brother," Harry teased, sticking out his lower lip and using a baby voice. He felt a light punch on the arm as he chuckled.

"Aw," Hermione joined, tilting her head adoringly. "Well, don't let me keep you from your family matters."

"Both of you can sod off," Ron said, shaking head. He showed a smile though, despite his clear attempts to hide it.

They climbed out through the portrait and began lazily wandering down the hall. Curfew wasn't for a few hours, so they had plenty of time.

Several people passed and said hello, most of them people who had been ridiculing him just last year for being insane. They had been partially right, of course, what with his mental connection to Voldemort. But they didn't know that, and the criticism hadn't hurt any less. He looked over at Ron and smiled, remembering how he had stuck up for him during those times. Harry had been angry, bitter, and pretty bitchy most of time, yet Ron had still tolerated him through it all. Even when he had been dragged into a fight at the Department of Mysteries and nearly suffocated by a brain, Ron had never blamed him for his stupidity at going to the Ministry in the first place. Harry couldn't help but feel extremely lucky to have such a friend that was willing to put up with his shit.

"You alright?" Ron asked. Harry looked over to find him staring.

"Yeah, why?"

"You look…I dunno, sad," he clarified, sounding concerned.

"No, I'm alright," Harry assured, looking away. He sometimes couldn't help feeling like a selfish bastard. He had been given wonderful friends, and now a boyfriend, and all he had done was drag them into his hell with him.

"You know, you can talk to me and stuff," Ron said. He sounded uncomfortable, but hopeful at the same time. Neither of them had been very good about _feelings_.

"I'm okay," he said, looking back over to try and convince him. "_Really_."

"Alright," Ron said, shrugging. He looked behind them as they walked, seeming to search for something. Then he looked far ahead down the hall in front of them, craning his neck.

Harry was about to ask what the hell he was doing when he felt a calloused hand slip into his own and tangle with his fingers.

Fire seemed to shoot up his arm and settle in his stomach, but he didn't let go. He only blushed and looked ahead, fighting the grin that threatened his face. When Ron seemed to loosen his fingers a bit at his lack of a reaction, Harry tightened his grip.

"Don't," he said, still looking forward. He glanced over and saw Ron smiling slightly, looking down at his feet as they continued to walk in silence.

When they got to the Owlery, Ron sighed and reluctantly let go of his hand again.

"Pig!" he shouted. His voice echoed throughout the high-ceilinged room, making several owls screech in annoyance.

One particular owl, however, hooted gleefully and dove down to them at the speed of light. It was small, feathery, and roughly the size of a tennis ball. It collided with Ron's chest and he caught it in his big, strong hands that were slightly rough from Quidditch and felt so good on his…

_Take it easy, Harry, _he thought hurriedly, distracting himself by looking around for Hedwig.

"I need you to take it to Charlie," Ron said slowly, trying to speak above the other owls' incessant hooting. For once, Pigwidgeon was quiet and actually appeared to be listening. His large eyes, which seemed almost too large for his little owl face, were focused on the redhead. "He lives in Romania, so it'll be a long flight, sorry. Oh, and watch out for the dragons."

Harry tried not to laugh as Pigwidgeon hooted in acknowledgement. Ron sounded like he was scolding a child, but a child he cared for greatly. Softie.

Ron tied the letter to the tiny owl's leg, who then took off excitedly, almost colliding with another one that was entering through one of the windows.

Harry couldn't find Hedwig, so he figured she was out hunting. He turned to Ron and asked if they were ready to go.

"Yeah," Ron nodded. They left through the large wooden door and began heading back to the common room.

Harry noticed that he had been falling back a bit halfway down the hall, mere steps from the Owlery door. He turned to ask what was the matter. Perhaps Ron had forgotten something?

But he felt the back of his shirt seized and he was being pulled sideways. The creak of a door was his only warning before he was pushed against a wall and attacked with Ron's tongue. Looking to the side, his mouth obstructed, he noticed they had just entered…

A broom closet.

He moaned, knowing what this meant. Ron was too impatient to wait until everyone fell asleep tonight. Classes were over for the day, so they had less of a chance of being caught. Plus, they were both insanely horny.

"Been waiting for this all day," Ron muttered against his neck, trailing his hand down Harry's torso. "Want you so bad."

"Uhn," Harry managed, feeling Ron's fingers start to work at the buttons on his shirt. They were both panting already, stuffed into a small dark space and getting extremely worked up.

Harry reached down between them and palmed Ron's cock through his trousers. Ron grunted, pulling the shirt open and moving to his jeans quickly. He popped open the buttons on the front one by one, nipping roughly at his neck as he did. Harry moaned into his ear, eager to feel that rough hand once again. He continued to rub against the redhead's erection, which he could feel growing at his touch.

Ron reached into his trousers and wrapped a hand around his cock. Harry closed his eyes, biting his lower lip to not sound so needy as he whimpered. Four days had seemed like an eternity.

He was drowning in the sensations from Ron biting at his neck and slowly stroking him. He writhed pleasurably beneath him, against him, but when Ron's teeth and tongue disappeared, Harry protested.

"What are you—?"

He gasped, feeling something hot and wet enclose his erection. Harry looked down, knowing what he would see.

But damn, it was hot.

Ron looked up at him, bright blue eyes shining with mischief. Ron was on his knees, mouth around him, hands gripping his hips tightly, looking so good with a cock in his mouth that Harry thought he would probably just come right there.

But no, he wanted to see this.

Ron began moving back and forth, his tongue playing along the underside as Harry just watched in fascination. He groaned and tried to thrust forward, seeking that wet heat, but Ron held him firmly against the wall to prevent him from moving.

"Oh, yeah," Harry breathed when his tongue lapped at the head. Ron licked at the fluid gathered at the slit, teasing him lightly.

It seemed like Ron was _trying _to drive him mad. The slow torture continued for a while, him being held still while that pink tongue darted out and laved at his erection. It throbbed eagerly, constantly seeking more and making Harry emit desperate pleas for him to go further.

"Please, Ron," he whined, tilting his head back against the wall. "Ugh, yeah…more…_please_…"

Ron plunged down suddenly, making Harry gasp as his cock slid deep down his throat. He just took it all without even seeming to care. Harry moaned wildly, gripping that soft red hair as he continued to suck and slurp around his cock. Then Ron started swallowing around him. He grunted in pleasure every time, feeling that tight throat constrict around him and then relax. His cock pulsed angrily, wanting to release into that sweet mouth of his.

"Fuck," he panted, looking down into those blue eyes again. His fingers were tangled in dark red strands, and he hoped he wasn't hurting him or pulling too hard. However, when Ron moaned around him, it didn't seem like he was objecting too much.

Harry could feel that soft tongue working him over while Ron's wicked mouth sucked him hard like a vacuum. He didn't think he could hold on much longer. His legs sure didn't feel very stable…

He saw Ron lift his hand and felt it work up his exposed torso. It skimmed over his nipple before reaching up to his mouth, which was open due to his heavy panting. The pad of Ron's thumb grazed over his lower lip. His eyes looked slightly glazed over as he stared into Harry's.

Harry wasn't sure why, but he immediately took it into his mouth. Ron moaned again, which was muffled by the erection in his mouth, and Harry sucked the appendage while looking down at him. It was quite an erotic sight, seeing him slightly vulnerable like that, and sucking on that thumb made it all feel…naughtier.

Ron's eyes closed, and Harry raked his teeth along his knuckle, making him grunt softly. Ron swallowed around him again.

Harry stiffened, breathing heavily. His stomach was tightening and feeling all warm, which meant he was close. His hand gripped the back of Ron's head and he thrust into that hot mouth hard, unable to control himself any longer. The finger left his mouth with a light _pop_ and he moaned loudly towards the ceiling.

"You feel so good," he breathed, his head still tilted back. Ron showed no resistance as he continued to thrust into his mouth, down his throat. He was fucking that gorgeous face and would be damned if anything would stop him now.

Ron sucked hard again and grunted. Harry looked down to see him wantonly stroking himself, his eyes heavily lidded in lust and legs spread to reach between them better. When Harry saw him convulse slightly and spill white cum onto the floor, he was pretty much done for.

Harry cried out, feeling his cock finally erupt. His bare chest heaved as his orgasm crashed through him. Waves of pleasure made him go weak, clenching his eyes shut at the blissful sensation and moaning from the ecstasy that smothered him.

Ron swallowed around him while he came, which made it that much more amazing. He sucked and licked until there was nothing left, and then finally released his spent cock from his mouth.

Somehow, Harry had remained standing, and he leaned back against the wall breathing heavily.

"Fuck," he said, running a hand through his unruly hair.

"That was hot," Ron said, chuckling and looking up at him. He was sitting on the floor, breathing equally as hard. His red hair was all mussed, no doubt from how many times Harry had run his fingers through it.

"You're telling me," Harry replied, stunned. He had never come that hard or felt anything like that before.

Having a boyfriend was awesome.


	13. Something

Ron stood, feeling slightly dazed.

He hadn't known giving head would be so enjoyable. Sure, he figured Harry would like it, and watching Harry come was probably the hottest thing he had ever seen, but he didn't expect to get quite so turned on by it.

But the way Harry looked, his mouth open and moaning so loudly, his cheeks pink with arousal, and his plump lips sucking around Ron's finger, had been more than he was prepared for. So, he had let Harry pretty much take control while he tended to his own needs. Ron's cock had been protesting from its lack of attention, and he _had _to give it something. Before he knew it, he had been spilling his seed all over the stone floor and swallowing Harry's at the same time.

He supposed he wouldn't mind doing it again.

Harry helped him up, though he looked as weak and blissful as Ron felt. Ron let himself be pulled closer and felt those pouty lips on his own. Harry's tongue began exploring his mouth with vigor. Tasting himself.

Ron groaned again. Who was this person?

Harry was kind of a freak.

He ran his fingers through unruly black hair, tugging him closer by it. Harry seemed happy to oblige. They grunted and groaned, snogging lazily in the aftermath of their little rendezvous. He could feel Harry's hips grinding into his own, no doubt seeking to get them hard again, but they couldn't afford to be gone _too _long.

"We should get back," Ron said breathlessly when he came up for air. He felt Harry's forehead on his shoulder, then felt him nod grudgingly.

"Yeah," he said, sounding disappointed.

"Was it good?" Ron asked, grinning.

Harry snorted.

"I would think you could tell. I don't think I've ever come harder in my life," his voice was muffled against Ron's shirt. "I don't wanna go back."

"Why not?"

"Because…I dunno…" Harry pulled back, looking embarrassed. "I really like spending time with you and stuff…"

"I always spend time with you," Ron said, chuckling. He immediately sighed though, feeling disappointed as well. "But I know what you mean. I like…this."

He gestured lamely at nothing in particular. Ron wished desperately that they didn't have to hide in a broom closet while they confessed their feelings awkwardly to each other. He would like nothing more than to just get it over with and shout out in the Great Hall that, yes, he _had_ just sucked off Harry Potter in a broom closet and everyone better get the fuck over it.

But then Harry would suffer worse ridicule than before, and things were already bad with Voldemort and everything. Harry needed all the supporters he could get. Ron knew how some people could be. Hell, he didn't doubt they were the only boys sneaking around in empty hallways and in their beds at night. But here, in school, people could be cruel. And he was certain they would be.

"Maybe during Christmas, after we tell your family, it'll be a bit better," Harry said against his ear. Ron felt a hand tangle in the light curls at the back of his neck. "I'm sorry I'm so much trouble all the time…"

"You're not trouble, Harry," Ron said exasperatedly. He closed his eyes, enjoying the fingers that ran through his hair slowly. "It would be hard even if you weren't the _Chosen One_."

They both laughed and he saw Harry's cute little nose crinkle, even in the darkness.

* * *

><p>When they got back to the common room, after Harry had yanked him into another closet on the seventh floor for one last brief snog, Hermione looked at them knowingly, but didn't tease. No one else seemed to have noticed they were gone.<p>

"Oy, where you two been?"

Apparently he was wrong.

"Owlery," Ron answered Seamus nervously. "Had to send a letter."

"Aw no, I just remembered I have one too," he groaned. He began rattling on about it, which Ron did not hear due to his relief at Seamus being distracted. He shot Hermione a glare when she started giggling noisily in her armchair.

"You got homework?" Harry muttered as Seamus continued. Sometimes, it seemed like that Irish accent went on for hours, so it was always best to just leave him be.

"Yeah," Ron sighed, his shoulders sagging dramatically. He had so much to do. He perked up, however, when he realized he was wrong and that it could be put off for a while. "Actually, no. McGonagall's essay isn't due till Wednesday, so I'm good."

"Today's Tuesday."

"Fffffffffffff – "

* * *

><p>"Ron?"<p>

He looked around, pulling his blanket along with him as he turned and saw Harry standing beside his bed. After about a million hours of writing the bloody essay, they had come upstairs and fallen into bed like walking inferi. He had just been drifting off, but if Harry was in trouble, he wouldn't deny him.

He was beginning to think he could never deny Harry anything ever again.

"Yeah?" Ron said, wondering if anything was wrong.

"I…er…I was wondering if I could sleep with you tonight?" he whispered, so quiet Ron almost didn't hear.

"Yeah, sure," he nodded. "Did you have a nightmare or something?"

Harry shook his head no and crawled in underneath the covers. Ron felt his lean arms wrap around his middle from behind, sharing the body heat between them. Harry's body pressed into his back closely.

"So you're okay?" Ron asked, confused.

"Yeah. I just…wanted to," Harry's voice sounded tentative, as if he were rethinking his decision.

Ron felt that warm tingly feeling in his stomach again, which he was beginning to realize happened every time Harry did something…sweet.

God, he was such a girl.

"Okay," he said simply. Harry couldn't see it, but he grinned slightly in the darkness.

They didn't snog, or touch each other, or pant heavily into the other's ear. They just lay there, enjoying the feeling of being together. It was still a bit strange for him, really, being this lovey with another bloke. But he couldn't deny that it felt nice.

Ron drifted off to sleep, feeling Harry's slow breath tickling the back of his neck.

* * *

><p>"Ron, wake up."<p>

"Five more – "

"Don't give me that," he heard Harry chuckle.

This was followed by small kisses peppering the side of his face. The image of plump, pinkish lips assaulted him pleasantly. However, his eyes refused to open.

"Mmm," Ron moaned, feeling a foreign hand trail down his side. His morning wood was pressed into the mattress, so he figured why not press it in a bit more? A slight jerk of his hips downward gave him a delightful friction, which made him grunt tiredly into his pillow.

"Nice try, but I'm over here," Harry said seductively, making Ron's cock actually twitch.

Well, he was awake now.

When his eyes finally complied with his brain enough to open, he sat up and crawled on top of the other boy, giving a few kisses of his own. On Harry's forehead, his cheek, and a few on that neck he so loved to nibble on. So he did that too.

Harry's legs came up to tuck at Ron's sides, and he realized that their cocks were now pressing together through the fabric of their pyjamas. Harry's felt equally as hard as his own, which made him all the more excited. He supposed his morning erection didn't have to be quite so annoying after all, if you could wake up like this every day…

Harry fisted his hair and pulled him to his lips. Ron groaned into that sweet mouth, feeling teeth nip at his lower lip a few times. Not too hard, but rough enough to drive him wild.

"Merlin," Ron breathed, thrusting forward slightly. Harry grunted in response. "You're so fucking…"

He ran his hands down Harry's sides, feeling the naughty little bits of skin that were left exposed when his shirt rode up. His hands continued around until they reached that taught arse that he worshipped so much.

It had haunted his every waking thought, really. And some unconscious ones. He knew they probably weren't ready for that yet and everything, having actual _sex_, but oh how he wanted it. Ron wouldn't do anything until Harry mentioned it or said it was okay, though. He knew this whole 'relationship' had technically just started. During times like this, with You-Know-Who around, waiting on anything could mean it never happened, but he would never push Harry to do it if he didn't want to or if he wasn't ready.

But he was sixteen and hormonal. He could at least dream, couldn't he?

Also, it didn't hurt to be prepared. Perhaps he should look in the magazine again…

Harry whimpered slightly and pushed his hips up into Ron's. Ron realized that this was because his own hips had stilled involuntarily, which he quickly fixed.

He rubbed his clothed cock against Harry's, feeling the outline of it through the loose fabric. Ron nibbled the skin of Harry's neck, just below his ear, which he now knew was a particularly weak spot. Harry moaned lowly, tilting his head to allow him more access. Ron nipped harder, sucking and licking the spot to tickle him further. He used his grip on Harry's arse to push their hips closer together, moving rhythmically against that hot erection beneath him.

They grunted and groaned, kissing furiously on and off as they panted together. Ron rutted against him, indulging Harry's pleas for him not to stop what he was doing.

"Yeah, like that," Harry breathed in his ear. His legs were still clamped at Ron's sides and his stomach muscles rippled with each thrust Ron gave. He sounded close and desperate.

Just how Ron liked him most.

"You're so good Harry," Ron groaned, not really registering what he was saying. His forehead felt a bit damp from his exertion, but hell if he was going to stop now. "So hot."

"Fuck," Harry moaned, throwing his head back. Ron felt his body tense and hands clutch at the back of his shirt. Harry keened and writhed as he came, but Ron continued to rub against him. He wanted to draw out those delicious sounds as long as he could.

He gripped Harry's arse tighter and buried his face in the crook of his neck. Ron could feel his stomach tighten, the burning in his groin getting ready to release. A few more pushes and he would be there…

Harry's tongue licking the shell of his ear and hot breath on his neck pretty much did it for him.

He grunted against Harry's shoulder, thrusting wildly and climaxing right there in his bed. The bed that was beginning to become his most favorite place in the castle. Warm cum spread in his pyjama bottoms, but he found it hard to care about that right now while his thoughts clouded over. All he knew was that he was writhing up against a beautiful boy who was panting heavily into his ear while he came.

And then it was over, and he was sticky.

Harry chuckled.

"We should shower. We'll probably be late for breakfast," he said, sighing when Ron rolled off to the side.

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Ron growled, reaching over and grabbing Harry's arse again for good measure. He couldn't get enough of it. It was going to be a long day…

But, his stomach was growling, and his noodly legs suddenly found strength again. There was nothing like a good morning hump, but food was a close second on the list.

"Come on," Ron sighed, throwing the covers out of his way so that he could stumble out of bed. His post-orgasm body protested, but so did his stomach.

When he drew back the curtains, however, his stomach seemed to disappear entirely.

Seamus was standing there, his face nearly bright red and his eyes wide with shock.

"We forgot to cast _muffliato_," Ron said numbly.


	14. Caught

Seamus landed hard in the chair. Ron paced quickly around, looking a bit frantic. Harry wasn't really able to feel anything other than wild panic at this point, so he just sat there wide-eyed and stared at the pair of them.

"What did you hear?" Ron shot, ceasing his movement around the room.

"Er…n-nothing…" Seamus answered, avoiding both of their eyes.

Ron snorted.

"Bullshit," he accused, pulling a hand through his red hair. Harry would have thought it was sexy had he not been in his current state of alarm.

"I just came up to get a spare quill," Seamus explained hurriedly, staring at the floor. "I…er…didn't mean to…I mean, I didn't think…"

It was pretty much the first time he had been speechless.

"You won't tell anyone, will you?" Harry begged, finding his voice. He had only just convinced Seamus to believe him last year about not being mad and all. He didn't have high hopes that Seamus would be very understanding about this either.

Seamus gulped, looking up at Ron finally. Ron loomed over him menacingly, a good measure taller since Seamus was sitting and the redhead had a good six inches on him standing anyways.

"I say we wipe his memory," Ron said, turning to Harry. "Then he won't be _able _to tell."

"No," Seamus said, eyes wide again. "I won't tell anyone, I promise!"

Ron looked questioningly at Harry, who shrugged.

"I can't let it get out," Harry said, speaking to both of them. "I'm not ashamed or anything, but if Voldemort – " both of them flinched "finds out then you'll be in even more danger... Everyone else I care about is dead, so if he knows…"

Harry stopped to prevent his voice from wavering. He couldn't let that happen.

Ron looked a bit shocked, and Seamus looked sympathetic.

"That's the only reason you're worried?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yeah," Harry said. Wasn't it obvious?

They stared at each other, the corners of Ron's mouth turning up a bit shyly. His freckled cheeks turned light pink and he looked away.

They all stayed in an awkward silence for a good while. After several minutes, Seamus finally looked over at Harry.

"So…you two are really…you know…" Seamus said, squirming uncomfortably in the wooden chair.

"Yes," Ron said shortly.

"For like…how long?"

"About a week," Harry said sheepishly. "Probably more."

"We didn't make it very long without getting caught," Ron sighed, flopping down on his own bed. "I wonder if we shouldn't just tell Dean now too?"

"Probably not," Harry said. "The fewer people who know, the better."

"I s'pose."

Silence again.

"Well," Seamus said hesitantly. "I'm, er, happy for you both and everything. Just…remember to use silencing charms or something…"

Then he hurried out of the room.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>It had been. Seamus hadn't looked at either one of them all day. He didn't seem resentful, or angry, but he had a constant expression of discomfort on his face. Perhaps he was less okay than Harry had originally thought.<p>

He was beginning to feel that maybe Ron's memory charm idea hadn't been entirely unnecessary.

But he would give it another day. If Seamus got angry or started acting strange, they would have no choice but to either threaten him or erase the information from his mind altogether. Ron seemed to get frustrated as the day wore on. He began shooting glares at Seamus, who was too busy not looking at them to notice.

Harry had decided to test the waters and asked to borrow his quill.

Seamus blushed furiously and handed it over without saying a word. Harry hoped tomorrow would be better.

* * *

><p>"So then she goes 'there's a snarfaluff in my bag, will you get it?' and I literally spent ten minutes looking for something she said was purple with yellow spots. I told her it wasn't there, but she insisted I look in the pages of her books too," Neville said, speaking loudly over the running water. "But I suppose it's no different than what I'm used to."<p>

He sighed.

Harry laughed, rinsing the suds off of his own shoulders. The warm water felt soothing after a long day of classes. The last had been Herbology, and they all were washing themselves of the resulting potting soil and bits of leaves stuck to their bodies. The Tentacula had come up with a few new moves in their absence.

The dorm's showers were spacious, and Harry always liked these ones better than the Quidditch locker room. Though, considering they had literally brought him and Ron together, Harry wasn't as opposed to them as before.

"Oi Seamus, I'm gonna go get a start on that table for Arithmancy," Dean's voice echoed against the tiled walls. Apparently he was finished with showering already.

"Okay," Seamus replied.

Harry heard padding footsteps fade into the next room. He couldn't really see anything clearly that wasn't right in front of his face, so he had to rely on other senses at the moment. It was a skill honed from living in a house where your cousin felt it necessary to break your glasses as often as possible.

But when he heard a smack and a yelp, he whipped his head round and squinted in the direction of the noise.

"Would you stop cowering over there?" Ron said angrily. Harry saw some type of nondescript object rolling away from the shape of Seamus, which had apparently just been thrown at him. "I'm not bloody looking at you or whatever you're afraid of!"

Seamus said nothing, which made Ron turn around irritably and start scrubbing his own body a bit roughly. He began muttering, though loud enough for Seamus to hear.

"Just because I like blokes doesn't mean I'm ogling everyone in sight!" he spat, shutting off the tap and storming out of the bathroom. The fact that he was naked was a bit humorous, but Ron's anger was always a big deal in any situation. Harry suspected Mrs. Weasley was a contributor to that particular characteristic.

Harry sighed, rinsed his body thoroughly, put his glasses back on, and shut off his own tap to go follow him. He, however, put a towel on instead of strutting out bare-arsed.

Ron was rummaging around in his trunk. Harry may have stayed to stare at the naked, firm behind of the redheaded boy for a few minutes, but who knew for sure? Eventually, though, he walked over and spoke tentatively.

"What's wrong?"

"You know what's wrong," Ron said, sounding irritated. "All day he's been giving us weird looks, and yesterday he barely looked at us at all. I mean, I know it's 'unexpected' or whatever, us being _together_, but it's not _that _weird. Some people need to just get over it!" he said a bit loudly, probably in hopes that Seamus would hear him again.

"I know," Harry said, nodding. Agreeing was always the fastest way to calm him down. "But…er…he _is _keeping a secret for us, so maybe we shouldn't push it just yet. Plus, he's not being a complete dick about it or anything. Not like he was last year," Harry pointed out.

"I suppose," Ron sighed, pulling out clean clothes. "But he's still being a little bit of a dick."

"Well maybe I can do something about _your_ dick," Harry muttered so that no one would hear them, even though the dorm was empty.

Ron bit his lower lip, still trying to look stubborn.

"Or maybe not," Harry said, sticking up his nose and walking over to his own trunk.

He felt hands on his waist, where the towel was hanging dangerously low, begin to pull him back. A bare cock, semi hard, pressed against him from behind.

"You mean this one?"

Harry shivered. His voice always got a bit rougher when he was excited.

"Maybe," Harry said, feeling the arms snake tighter around him.

"I enjoyed Herbology today," Ron said, chuckling slightly.

"Why? You almost got a black eye."

"Because I got to see you all sweaty and worked up, of course," Ron muttered into his ear. Harry shied away, grinning from the tickling sensation of the breath on his neck, but was held close by strong arms. "That's usually the state I like you best in."

It didn't escape Harry's notice that they were slowly wandering towards his bed. His stomach tingled, wondering if he should do the right thing and get to his homework.

Write an essay, or fool around?

Harry felt a hand on his towel, fiddling with the corners that were tucked so neatly to keep it in place. It loosened around his waist as he let himself be pushed gently onto the bed. He landed on all fours, feeling Ron's body against him the entire time, as well as a growing erection between his own legs.

Fool around it is.

Ron grabbed his wand from the nightstand and waved it hastily, drawing the curtains around them at lightning speed. Harry heard him mutter _"muffliato"_ as well. God forbid they forget _that_ again.

Harry felt the towel ripped off unceremoniously and thrown to the foot of the bed, where it was soon forgotten.

He groaned, feeling Ron's hard cock against his bare arse now. It made his groin tingle and his breath quicken, but he couldn't deny that he felt a bit nervous.

They had never gone this far before. Sure, they had seen each other naked countless times in the showers and around the dorm for about six years, and hell, Ron had landed atop him naked already which had started this whole thing in the first place. He couldn't even deny that he wanted to have actual _sex_. It had already been one of his fantasies. But right here, when the other boys were walking around just outside the curtains, seemed a bit…wrong. He wasn't asking for candles and a meadow of flowers. He just wanted them to be…alone. For it to be just a little special.

He felt a bit embarrassed at the thought. He was such a girl.

Harry continued to ponder what exactly this meant as he felt Ron's teeth gently nipping at his neck.

It would obviously be his first time having sex at all. With anyone. He didn't doubt that he wanted it to be with Ron, though. After the stuff they had already done, he was sure it would feel good, and despite their awkward inability to express what they really felt internally, Harry knew that Ron wouldn't hurt him on purpose. However, that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt.

He was unsure about all of this. Harry knew how to please Ron orally because he himself had a penis too, and he could imagine what would feel good and what wouldn't (although the magazine had helped considerably). What was he supposed to expect when Ron was pushing into him for the first time? Would it hurt? Would he not want to do it at all? That didn't seem very fair.

Harry blushed at the thought of perhaps experimenting on his own.

"God…" Harry said, half from mortification and half from the ticklish spot Ron was nibbling. The soft skin on the side of his neck, below his ear, was extra sensitive for some reason.

Ron licked the spot slowly, making his stomach tingle. He always had a way of making everything as erotic as possible, even simple snogging between classes. Teeth bit in the crook of his neck, softly but a bit possessive.

Ron's rough hands grabbed him and bodily turned him over onto his back. He quickly wiggled himself between Harry's legs, to which he was happy to comply by tucking them by Ron's sides.

Harry whined, feeling that bare cock rub against his own. It felt about a thousand times better without the fabric of their pyjamas in the way, and Harry began thrusting upward to try and relieve some of his tension. His hands ran along Ron's bare back, feeling strong shoulder muscles contract to hold him up on his elbows. His skin was still damp from the shower, making the ripples of his body shine deliciously in the low light.

Harry fisted Ron's flaming hair and pulled him up in order to join their lips together. A grunting, slippery, muscley redhead was on top of him and he would be lying if he said he didn't love every second of it. Ron's tongue worked effortlessly into his mouth, to which Harry groaned. He tasted like sweets, which he consumed so often they were probably fused in with his DNA by now. A gentle sugary glaze, with hints of chocolate and cherries. Harry would happily indulge in it all day if he were able.

It was a taste only Ron's tongue could provide.

Their cocks, both equally hard, slid together, making Harry pant into the open mouth above him. Ron seized his hip in order to steady their erratic movements, and probably get a handful of his arse as well. Harry hadn't missed the longing looks that Ron gave it every so often, or the constant groping of it every time they were in the heat of the moment. Hell if he would complain, though.

Ron's hips collided with his own, making Harry moan. The precum on their cocks trapped between their bodies was making them slick, and Harry had never felt anything like it. It was certainly different, feeling a bare erection sliding against his own, but it sure as hell felt good. He let his head fall back onto the pillow.

"Uhn," Harry grunted, closing his eyes at the sensation. "Don't stop…"

Ron gave a short laugh. "Last thing on my mind," he said breathlessly. His face moved to the crook of Harry's neck, and he could feel gentle bites being placed there again. Ron always liked to keep his mouth busy.

Harry felt the hand on his hip wander slowly around, probably to get a better grasp on his arse. He lifted his hips, making them collide with Ron's a little harder than he probably intended, to give him more access.

Ron groaned against his skin, sounding needy. Harry kept a hand tangled in those coppery strands to keep him fused to his neck. He turned his head wildly, moaning into the air above them in pleasure.

Harry felt something prod at his lips suddenly and he opened his eyes. It couldn't have been Ron's cock, because it was currently rutting against his own…

He opened his mouth to ask and two fingers pushed their way inside, which he took in slight surprise. The other hand remained on his hip, holding him still to be humped properly. As long as the thrusting and soft nibbles never stopped, Harry couldn't give less of a fuck what else happened. He decided to play a bit dirty, if Ron insisted on hindering his speech like that…

Harry sucked the fingers slowly, mimicking how he would take Ron's cock into his mouth instead. Ron grunted, pushing harder against him, as Harry took the fingers all the way to the base of them. He bit lightly with his teeth and laved at them with his tongue, trying not to smirk when the redhead made a soft whimpering noise.

Ron nipped roughly at his skin, and Harry heard the saliva-covered fingers pop as they were removed quickly.

The hand rested on his other hip, so that he was being pinned and groped quite thoroughly. Ron didn't stop moving against him, and his right hand moved around slightly, mimicking the left's movements just moments ago.

But it kept going, moving closer to his arse. Harry tensed slightly as he realized was Ron was probably intending to do with those fingers.

"Is this okay?" Ron asked hesitantly. His hips never ceased, and his breathing was heavy, but his voice sounded genuine.

It was amazing how, mere seconds before, he had just been pondering this.

_He can totally read minds,_ Harry confirmed mentally. There was no other way.

Harry looked up into those blue eyes, which were so brilliantly colored and beautiful, but were now filled with a questioning look. Harry nodded, figuring it would happen sooner or later anyway. Plus, he _was_ a bit curious…

Ron went back to his neck and his slick fingers moved around to Harry's arse. One of them teased his entrance, which felt a bit tingly and not really so bad. It spread the saliva around a bit, making it slippery, and Harry grunted with the combined feeling of that and his cock being assaulted by Ron's. Both their bodies were slick in all the right places, and a bit sweaty from their actions, but it only turned Harry on more.

Then Ron's middle finger pushed through the tight ring of muscle, and Harry definitely noticed. He could feel an unmistakable burn, and that was just the tip of a bloody finger. When Ron pushed a bit more, Harry stiffened, feeling the sting increase. How the hell was a cock supposed to fit in there if _that_ wouldn't?

"Does it hurt?" Ron muttered, sounding concerned.

"A bit," Harry said truthfully. He was no stranger to pain, but this was different and a bit unpleasant. He had never had to worry about pain _there_ before…

Ron removed it and brought his hand between them. Harry gasped slightly when he took both of their slicked erections at once and pumped a few times. Harry involuntarily thrust up into him at the sensation. The feeling of his cock against Ron's, squeezed by those calloused fingers, made him weak. But all too soon, Ron removed it again and brought his hand back around.

It felt different this time. His fingers were covered in precum and saliva, making the stretch easier with more lubrication. It almost felt good, and after a bit of movement from the small intruder, Harry didn't mind so much anymore.

Ron seemed to take this as a good sign, and pushed a bit deeper. He began moving gently in and out, almost hesitantly, while his hips continued rutting against Harry's aching cock. It begged for release, and he began pushing back in a desperate attempt to feel more.

Ron snuck in a second finger. Harry felt the burn again, but after a few pumps into him, it lessened to a dull annoyance.

"Fuck," Ron said in a slightly strangled voice. "You're so tight here, Harry."

Harry moaned. The fingers continued their assault inside him, making him feel a fullness that he wasn't used to. As they worked deeper, Harry felt a light tingling that wasn't entirely unpleasant. His legs tightened at Ron's sides. His toes curled slightly with all of the stimulations he was feeling at once. Ron's cock, sliding languidly along his own, his fingers, pushing deep inside him, and those teeth nipping lightly at his skin were all slightly overwhelming.

"Oh," Harry said in slight surprise. He felt a twinge when Ron's fingers brushed against some sort of nerve inside him. It sent a shiver up his spine and he clutched at Ron's bare back.

"You like that?" Ron muttered against his skin. His voice was rough and he was thrusting hard, hips and fingers both.

"Uhn," Harry closed his eyes and tensed as Ron's fingers pounded the spot inside him. "Yeah," he breathed shakily, clutching at a handful of red hair again for support.

Ron grunted, sounding encouraged, and continued to move against him. Harry's breathing got even more labored as he felt twinges from whatever it was wracking his body, combined with Ron's throbbing cock rubbing against his own. He whimpered from the pleasure, unable to contain himself. It wasn't the most manly thing, but neither was getting fingered in the arse.

Ron pulled his face away slightly and looked down at him. Those blue eyes looked hungry again, and Ron bit his lower lip in a look of clear want. Harry stared back, face flushed and eyes wide as he panted openly. He was amazed at what Ron was doing to him, making him so aroused with just a touch in the right place. He moaned and writhed, pulling at Ron's body, encouraging him to keep going.

"Oh," Harry whined, closing his eyes again. His midsection burned, telling him he was close. He gripped the back of Ron's hair harder to hold onto his sanity. It might have been hurting him, but Harry doubted either of them even cared.

Then Ron began to whisper dirty things in his ear.

"You like me touching you here, Harry?" he said lowly, thrusting his fingers in time with his hips. "I bet you wish it was my cock instead, yeah? Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?"

"Uh!" Harry shouted, convulsing against the body on top of him. Warm seed gushed between them as he came hard, clutching at Ron's back and digging his blunt nails into the skin. Ron kept hitting that nerve, making him go nearly blind as he cried out during his orgasm. It seemed like wave after wave of ecstasy hit him, pushed further by that sweet spot as it was struck mercilessly, again and again.

What seemed like mere seconds later, Ron was coming too. Harry vaguely registered him bury his face in the crook of his neck and moan, but he was still reeling from his own climax, and unable to really do anything except lay there.

Ron relaxed finally after slowing his hips to a stop. After a brief pause, he pushed his palm to the bed, bringing himself up with his free arm. The other hand pulled back, removing the fingers from him. Ron flopped down beside him and they lay there side by side, panting and trying to catch their breath. Both of their stomachs were sticky and warm, but Harry felt that it was completely worth the mess.

Ron leaned over and gave a light peck on his lips before collapsing on his side again.

Maybe sex wouldn't be so bad after all.


	15. No Problem

Ron had never had to fight off an orgasm so hard in his life.

It had started with looking at the damn magazine again. He had been seeing a lot of Harry's arse lately. The git was probably teasing him, because it seemed like everywhere he turned, it was on display. Harry's robes were tailored, because he was filthy rich and could afford such things, so they were able to show every damn curve of that arse, stretch unmercifully across that tight chest, and fit nicely to those lean muscles on his shoulders and biceps before tapering off and becoming all flowy. How was it that they could be robes, but leave so little to the imagination? Well, Ron had seen all of him anyways, so he technically didn't need to imagine.

Anyways, Harry's arse.

He had recently found himself wondering more and more what sex would be like with Harry. Hot, of course, and no doubt amazing, but Ron had no idea what to expect. Would Harry even want to? If so, then when? What the hell was Ron supposed to do with him when they actually did? He suspected the process went a bit different than was discussed in the 'talk' he and his mother had gone through when he was twelve. That one had been all about what to do with _women_, as well as being one of the most haunting memories of his childhood. He wasn't really able to look his father in the eye for a few weeks after that, knowing what he did to his mum...

And then, Ron had realized that he knew absolutely _nothing_ on how to go about doing this to Harry, and panic had shortly ensued.

So, he sought out the magazine again in a desperate attempt to ease his nerves.

One article had a very descriptive story in it. It said it was a 'romance', but Ron couldn't help but feel that the phrases 'slamming into his prostate' and 'exploding cock' weren't that common in amorous dialogue. However, it was all he had.

From what he could tell, this 'prostate' thing seemed important. It seemed almost like a bloke's clitoris for when he was being fucked, instead of getting off from _doing_ the fucking. Ron had wondered how it could even feel good at all, really, being on the bottom end of things. But now he knew.

In the story, one of the blokes had shoved his fingers up there and started manipulating them, but the other one liked it. He had been 'massaging the prostate', and was stretching him out so as to not rip him in half when his actual cock went in. The thought was somewhat disturbing, now that Ron realized he couldn't just shove his dick up there and start humping him like a dog. He hadn't thought of the fact that he would need to prepare Harry, stretch him out, and take his time. God, what was he, a caveman?

He then realized that he was automatically putting himself in the 'top' position. What if Harry wanted to do all this instead?

Ron didn't think he would have a problem, being the 'fucked' instead of the 'fucker'. This story didn't seem like either of the wizards were hating it, so that must mean that having a cock in your arse felt just as good as putting yours in one, right? He had just assumed that with Harry's whole thing with dirty talk and being held down and whatnot, that he would be the less dominant in that area too. But perhaps he was wrong?

Ron sighed. He was going to have to talk to him about all this.

After scanning the story for any other clues, Ron had felt a little better prepared. He knew they couldn't go at it quite so hard like these two in the story could, because it would be their first time. Harry wouldn't be used to it, and Ron _never_ wanted to cause him any pain as long as he lived. Sure, Ron had a temper and was stubborn, he could admit that, but he would die before he ever caused any more hurt in Harry's already fucked-up life.

So, he decided to test the waters next time they got a little hot and heavy.

And it had been fucking awesome. He had just exploded at Seamus and everything, but the lure that was Harry's low-hanging towel was just too good to pass up. They had writhed against each other and moaned loudly, both under the safe cover of the curtains and muffling charm. Harry had looked all too enticing, flushed and randy as all hell. The little keening noises he made drove Ron wild, and those pink cheeks showed that it was getting very heated in that little bed.

So, Ron had asked if he could move things a little further, and Harry had agreed.

The result had been even better. If Harry was attractive before, it was nothing compared to how sexy he had looked under the ministrations of Ron's fingers. The story hadn't been exaggerating, because Harry was moaning and crying out, clutching at him for dear life until he finally climaxed, hard. Ron had actually had to stave off his own orgasm from the sight, because he didn't want to miss those beautiful noises Harry made when he came.

Music to his ears.

So now they lay there, panting and trying to catch their breath after such a workout. Ron's wrist was a bit sore from plunging his fingers into Harry for so long, and his stomach was covered in cum, but it had been totally worth it.

He had technically broken his rule about not mentioning the whole sex thing to Harry before he was ready. Feeling that tight hot space enclose around his fingers had made him entirely desperate to see how his cock felt in there, and his dirty talk had mirrored that desire. But Ron wasn't so out of control that he would try to just shag without discussing it first, and Harry didn't even seem put off by the mention of it at all.

This was his sign to finally bring it up, then.

But Harry beat him to it.

"What _was_ that?" the dark-haired boy asked in wonder.

Ron grinned up at the canopy.

"Something called a 'prostate'. I dunno what it does, but it feels good when you touch it, apparently," he explained, smirking slightly.

"How do you know that?" Harry said suspiciously.

"Magazine," Ron said simply. They were now both aware of its informative powers, and how much they paid off.

"Ah."

"Was it okay? I mean, I won't do it if you don't want me to anymore," Ron said a bit nervously now. Obviously Harry had enjoyed it, but maybe he didn't want to be touched there. Maybe he wanted to be the one doing these things instead of Ron…

"No, it felt nice. I…I like it," Harry said quietly. Ron could see a faint blush as he admitted this, which made him all the more cuter.

"That's good," Ron said, blushing as well. "I like doing it."

They sat in silence, breathing normally now. Ron tried to work up the courage for his next question.

But again, Harry beat him to it.

"So when do you want to…you know…" Harry said, not looking at him directly.

Ron looked over in surprise, however. He saw Harry's profile staring up at the canopy, and then the green eyes slowly drifted down to connect with his blue ones.

"Whenever you want to," Ron answered, realizing that Harry wasn't intending to finish the sentence.

"How about…" Harry hesitated, biting that plump, pink lower lip.

"Yeah?" Ron encouraged, fending off a groan.

"How about over break? Like…at the Burrow?" Harry suggested tentatively. "That way, we'll be in a room alone, and we won't have to worry about anyone here," he gestured around in general, probably indicating the other boys in the dorm.

Ron was a bit shocked, but he didn't let it show. He had been expecting Harry to want to wait a bit longer or something. It wasn't that he thought Harry was afraid or anything, because he doubted there was much he really _was_ afraid of anymore, but he figured Harry would want to sort out his emotions first. Ron knew that he hadn't been close to very many people in his life, so trust was probably a big issue there. Not to mention Ron himself was trying to figure out a few things as well about this whole thing.

Were they 'in love', or just 'dating'? Were they messing around? Experimenting?

Ron had no idea. He didn't think it was really an experiment. He knew for sure now that he liked blokes. Hell, he had figured it out before he even confronted Harry about it. He also truly liked Harry and the way his personality was. They probably wouldn't have been friends in the first place if he didn't. Undoubtedly he liked Harry's body as well, damn near every inch, but it wasn't solely physical need that drew him in. Ron had always admired his bravery and kindness, and the fact that he would risk his life for anyone he cared for. That trait may have been grained into Harry in a desire to hold onto anyone he loved, but it was a good characteristic to have. Better than be an inconsiderate arse who throws all your loved ones under a bus for a cookie. He had liked Harry's loyalty the first day he met him, when Harry refused Malfoy's snake-like charm in order to remain friends with a _Weasley_. A mere blood-traitor.

So, were his feelings just what he had always admired about Harry, only amplified by the physical aspect now? Ron felt like that was it, but if it was, then what _was_ all this?

He realized that they had technically already classified themselves as 'boyfriends'. Ron decided that, everyone he knew had been plain friends before they were dating anyways. His mum and dad, Bill and Fleur, Fred and Angelina, Percy and Penelope. But his parents were madly in love now, Bill was a goner whenever he looked at Fleur, and Fred and Angelina had always been holding hands and all…cutesy. Percy had technically hidden Penelope away, though, but it was probably in an attempt to save her from his mad family. Ron didn't blame him, really.

He supposed that this romance stuff, whatever it was, didn't happen all at once. He would just have to enjoy how it went, one way or the other, and let it work itself out.

"Sounds good to me," Ron answered finally, grinning. He leaned over and gave Harry another peck on the lips.

Harry laughed slightly.

So Ron, unable to resist, tackled him and began placing quick kisses all over his face. On his cheeks, his lips, and of course, the tip of that adorable nose, which was scrunched up in his laughter. Harry pushed him off, still chuckling, and went to draw the curtains open again.

"Careful," Ron said warily, leaning up on his elbows. Both of them were completely naked, which would be somewhat of a giveaway if anyone saw them emerging like that from the same bed.

Harry peeked his head out slowly, clearly checking for any inhabitants.

"It's clear," he said before opening the crimson drapery wide.

Ron crawled from the bed, still a bit relaxed from his orgasm, and walked lazily over to his trunk.

When they were dressed in their casual clothes, since classes were over for the day, they started heading for the door so that they could grudgingly start their homework. Hermione would no doubt be waiting for them, a smirk firmly in place.

But again, it was totally worth it.

* * *

><p>Ron felt like everyone was staring at him. They couldn't possibly know what he was doing, could they? No, of course not.<p>

He hadn't told a soul.

In the safe confines of the dorm, he had been flipping through the magazine in search for help yet again. The damn thing was becoming his new best friend. Though, since his old mate had move up to the rank of 'boyfriend' now, he supposed the slot was technically free.

Ron had finally found what he was looking for. The story he had read before, whilst describing various acts of a sexual nature in great detail, had mentioned that lubricant was used. It had been playing on his mind since he had read it, and now, it seemed a bit obvious that it was needed. Harry hadn't been able to fully relax and enjoy their 'play' yesterday until Ron had used as much bodily fluid as he could collect on his fingers. Instead of waiting for their precum to build up every time, Ron thought it would be best to just order something and use that. It would certainly make the process a bit smoother, so to speak. The ad in the back of the magazine, hidden amongst various images of toys that looked rather intimidating, was for a simple brand of lubricant that looked tame enough for them.

He had ordered it right then, sending Pigwidgeon with money and a warning that if he didn't come back discreetly, Harry would unknowingly be using him for Quidditch practice as a stand-in Snitch.

So the next morning at breakfast, as Ron was looking around shiftily, Pig flew low towards him and landed more quietly than Ron had ever seen him in his life. He rewarded him by poking a few bits of bacon (Did owls even _eat_ bacon? Pig did, apparently.) into his beak, before taking the parcel and stuffing it into his bag quickly.

"What's that?" Harry asked curiously. His wide green eyes looked down at the hidden package, which was no bigger than Pigwidgeon himself.

"Surprise," Ron said smugly, crunching on another strip of bacon.

"Is it a special surprise, or a regular surprise?" Harry asked warily, raising an eyebrow.

"It's a surprise," he replied evasively.

One that was apparently cherry flavored.

* * *

><p>Ron walked out of Transfiguration, feeling slightly dazed. One of his spells had gone horribly wrong. The Puffskein, which apparently did not reproduce asexually like he thought, was their experiment today in Trans-Gender Transfiguration. He had succeeded twice in changing it from male to female, and then back again. But on the third time, it had apparently sprouted two penises.<p>

Nothing was more awkward than checking between its tiny legs and seeing _those _staring back at you.

Shaking his head to try and get the image out, he could still hear Hermione giggling behind him as they walked down the hall. He sighed, staring forward and trying to ignore her.

His eyes widened when he saw Seamus slip into the bathroom ahead, alone.

"Oy, I'm gonna go to the loo," Ron said to Harry, who was talking with Neville about why his Puffskein kept changing color.

"It could be a gender-specific thing – oh, okay," Harry said, nodding in his direction.

Ron felt relieved that Harry didn't offer to come along. Had they been girls, every female in the vicinity would have probably accompanied him, regardless if they had to go or not.

Ron would never understand.

So he hurried towards the door and hauled it open. Seamus was standing at one of the urinals, clearly busy, so he waited behind the corner to ambush him after he washed and all that.

"Woah, Jesus Ron, you scared the shite out of me – "

"Oy, what's up with you?" Ron said, ignoring his surprise.

He shifted uncomfortably. "What d'you mean?"

"I mean you've been acting weird for a while," Ron said bluntly. "Ever since you found out about me and Harry."

"I dunno what you're talking about."

"Is it because we're in the same dorm, or something?" Ron asserted, gesturing at nothing in particular. "Because it's not like we're gonna come up and _molest_ you."

"I didn't even say – "

"Well then, what?"

Seamus gulped slightly, stepping back.

"I just…you two have been friends for a while. How did that even happen?" he said, sounding quiet. His voice barely echoed in the large tiled room.

"I dunno," Ron shrugged. "I realized that he liked me and I liked him, so we…er…started seeing each other. I took a chance and decided to go for it."

He neglected to mention they started by Ron mauling him naked and then giving him a hand job before they even shared a first kiss.

"But…how did you know he liked you?" Seamus whispered. There wasn't even anybody else in here, so Ron wasn't sure why he was being s0 discreet.

"I…er…well, that's not important," Ron said, deciding against telling him. It felt a bit betraying to tell Seamus of Harry's personal dreams. "I just did."

Seamus looked disappointed for some reason. Ron narrowed his eyes.

"Wait…so why were you acting so weird then?" he asked suspiciously.

Seamus sighed heavily.

"I suppose…if I know your secret…" he seemed to be reasoning more with himself than with Ron. "Okay," he said, closing his eyes.

"What is it?" Ron asked warily.

"Well…" Seamus' eyes darted around suddenly, as if he were looking for a way out. "You know how Dean and I are like, best mates and stuff?"

"Yeah," Ron said, eyes wide.

"Well, I sort of…er…I mean…ergh, I dunno," he backpedalled, stepping farther away and scratching the back of his neck.

"You like him?" Ron said, shocked.

Seamus flinched, his face almost beat red.

"Yeah."

"Really?" Ron said. Perhaps it was a joke.

"I think so," Seamus looked foreboding. "You can't tell anyone, though! Especially not him."

Ron held up his hands in defense.

"I won't," he reassured. "I'm just…wow."

"I know," Seamus groaned, leaning against the wall.

"Wait, so in the showers yesterday, why were you hiding?" Ron asked, frowning. He had been cowering away as if they were poisonous.

Seamus groaned again and buried his face in his hands, looking mortified.

"Merlin…he was showering next to me! I couldn't…I mean…God, and then everybody looked at me…" he choked out from behind his hands.

If Ron could feel any more guilt, it would probably kill him.

He had thought Seamus was hiding his cock from view because of some sort of homophobic problem. But apparently, it had been to hide an erection from the sight of his best friend naked. Not only had Ron appeared like a complete arse by throwing a fit, but he had also caused Seamus even more embarrassment by bringing attention to his previously unnoticed actions.

"I'm sorry," Ron gasped, completely ashamed. "I had no idea, I just assumed – "

"No, I know," Seamus said, uncovering his red face. His head still hung low, but he didn't seem angry at least. "It actually gave me an excuse to tell Nev. I just…I dunno what to do."

"Well, you know Dean's dating Ginny, right?" Ron said sympathetically. That fact was rather hard to miss, since they kept hanging off each other's lips every second they could.

"Yeah, I know," Seamus said sadly. "But wasn't Harry dating that Cho girl last year? And Parvati before?"

"Er…yeah," Ron said. He didn't want to completely crush his spirit by pointing out that those were barely anything compared to the slurping, snogging, grope-fest that was Ginny and Dean's relationship. The thought made him shiver in disgust.

"But I know it's hopeless," Seamus said, slumping back against the wall. He sounded so defeated.

"Maybe not," Ron said, remembering Hermione's recent gossip that she had spilled last night over homework. "I know that Ginny and Dean have been fighting a lot recently. I'm not too sure I want her slobbering all over another boy anyways, so maybe, if we fuel the fire a bit…"

"Really?" Seamus looked up, the beginnings of hope in his eyes.

"But there's still the issue of him _wanting_ to date her that's the problem," Ron said thoughtfully. "You don't know if he…you know, likes blokes at all?"

"No," he shook his head. "He's only dated her, and he obviously won't just mention it over lunch one day, so I have no idea."

"Well maybe you could…er…" Ron sighed. "Look, when I knew Harry liked me, I started hinting at it a lot. So maybe, if you just say things without _actually_ sounding like you're making a move, you can see how he reacts. Stuff with double meanings, or something like that."

"Okay," he said, looking a bit confused.

"Or, I dunno," Ron continued, trying his best, "you could like, walk around with your shirt off, 'accidentally' brush against him, wrestle around a bit too close. You see what I mean?"

"Yeah, I get it," he said, nodding. He actually chuckled, and managed not to look so miserable.

"So, are you gonna stop being weird around us now?" Ron asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I'll try," Seamus said, grimacing. "But…you know...I _did _hear a few things…so it's been hard to…you know…look at either of you right."

"Sorry," Ron said, laughing and blushing slightly. "Well, I have to go to Potions. See you later…"

He turned to leave, feeling a bit better that he wouldn't have to wipe Seamus' memory after all.

"Oi, Ron?"

He paused at the door and looked back.

"Yeah?"

"Er…thanks…"

He grinned. "No problem."

* * *

><p>"Oh, for the love of – Ron, can you get that?" Harry said exasperatedly.<p>

Ron nodded, leaning over him in order to reach the small phial of spores. Harry was currently trying to chop a very resilient horned slug, which had a particularly tough exterior, so he wasn't able to add the spores at the moment like the potion called for.

While he was struggling to reach the phial, Ron tried to pretend that he didn't feel the light nip on his ear. There was a great amount of smoke in the room, which allowed for them to be a bit adventurous today. But Malfoy was no doubt watching Harry like always, so Ron wouldn't be able to react how he really wanted to. That is to say, throw Harry down and mount him like a wolverine.

"How many?" Ron asked, putting one of Harry's Dragon-hide gloves on. The spores stuck in your skin if you didn't protect yourself.

"Five, I think," Harry replied, finally slicing through the thick slug. The silver knife was fighting valiantly.

Ron plunked five spores in and closed the tiny bottle again. He sighed.

Harry was doing it again. Ron felt sometimes that his own hormones were so out of control that he was lucky to not be walking around perpetually hard. But whenever Harry made moves like that, Ron suffered.

He smirked. Harry would pay for it tonight, though…

* * *

><p>Ron gripped his quill like a vice. Harry's foot, which was shoe-free this evening, was running up his leg and dangerously close to his throbbing hard-on. Their book bags were on either side on the floor, providing the perfect cover for more-than-friendly groping beneath the table. It was torture.<p>

Homework had never been this horrible before, even when Snape had assigned that three-foot essay on the specifics of Dementor breeding. Sure it had been long and confusing, and a bit nauseating, but at least he hadn't been forced to conceal and erection through writing the damn thing. This was just cruel.

Ron's erection was becoming more difficult to ignore, and he was desperate to get _some _sort of release. If that foot would just go an inch or two higher…

Harry knew what he was doing, too, the bloody git. Ron could see that smug little smirk on his face. On those lips. Pouty, pink, and just begging to be wrapped around his cock.

And all the while that little package sat upstairs, still unopened.

Ron stared hungrily. Harry's tongue darted out to taste his quill briefly as he pretended not to notice his pain. He had had enough.

"Going to bed," Ron practically screamed, standing abruptly from his chair.

He hurried towards the stairs and vaguely heard Harry say that he was going too. He was probably a little smoother about it, making some excuse, but that gave Ron enough time to open the parcel.

Ron pulled his robes up over his head, leaving himself in only boxers and a t-shirt as always. He sat cross-legged on his bed, picked up the square package, and tore the paper off the outside. He hurriedly disposed of the outer box and felt something heavy fall into his lap. It was a long crystal bottle, thin enough for him to wrap his hand around. Ironically, it was about the same thickness as a cock.

He chuckled.

The crystal was tinted pinkish-red, but when he opened it, the liquid inside was clear. It looked thicker than water, but less so than marmalade. He closed it again and set it on his nightstand. Harry was in for a long night.

He smirked evilly when the door clicked open.

"Ron?" Harry said tentatively. "You're not angry, are you? I was just messing around…"

Ron didn't say anything. He waited for the prey to get paranoid and come over to check on him. He heard footsteps, and then a head poked through the curtains, looking worried.

Ron leaned forward and seized the front of his robes quickly, then pulled him onto the bed before he could register what was happening.

He crashed his lips to Harry's, greedily sticking his tongue in that hot mouth to taste him. Sweet mint greeted him as the other boy's mouth opened in surprise.

Harry grunted. Ron climbed atop him, still fused at the lips, and began pulling Harry's robes in a desperate attempt to get them off. He broke the kiss, yanking them up and over his head.

"I'll take that as a no?" Harry said, chuckling slightly.

"Did I _say_ no?" Ron growled, raising an eyebrow. Harry gulped, his emerald eyes a bit wide.

"What d'you mean?" he said nervously.

Ron leaned forward so that his mouth was at Harry's ear. He tugged at the hem of his shirt while he whispered, "Did you forget about your surprise?"

"Oh yeah. What is it?" Harry asked with the eagerness of a five year old at Christmas.

Ron pulled the dark blue shirt off, forcing his arms above his head briefly and revealing Harry's wonderfully toned chest. His skin shone in the moonlight from the window. Ron ran his fingers over it and shimmied downward. When his mouth was level, he latched onto one of the pink nipples, making Harry gasp.

Harry's chest rose and fell faster beneath his tongue, which was swirling over the bud slowly. Harry moaned, placing a hand on the back of his head to keep him there. Ron could feel the other hand scrabbling on his lower back, pulling up his shirt. He lifted briefly to allow Harry to pull it off, and was forced back down by the back of his head in order to continue what he was doing. The previous question and curiosity, it seemed, were forgotten.

Ron grunted against his skin. He fumbled with Harry's underwear, pulling the band down hastily. His cock, which was hardening, sprung free and Ron broke away to pull the briefs off completely. He clumsily took his own off as well, long legs making it slightly difficult, and threw them somewhere that didn't matter.

Ron reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his wand and the bottle.

"_Muffliato,"_ Ron murmured, waving it quickly to get the necessities out of the way. He dropped the wand and unstoppered the bottle.

"What's that?" Harry asked curiously, seeming to notice it for the first time.

Ron smirked, sitting up straight while straddling the boy beneath him. "Lubricant."

Harry's eyes widened. He made something between a groan and a gasp as Ron put a small amount in his right hand. Ron then abandoned it on the nightstand again, leaving it open for later use.

He got between Harry's legs, leaned over him, and nipped at his neck. The soft skin there was always great to feast on. He could never get enough of it.

As he thrust his naked hips against Harry's, Ron brought his slick hand between them and took both erections at once. Harry moaned, bucking upward. Ron felt hands clutch at his shoulders, and he had to keep from reeling at the cool sensation on his cock too. The feel of Harry's slippery erection against his, with him stroking them both, was wonderful.

"Oh, fuck," Harry breathed, closing his eyes. Ron bit underneath his ear, trying not to let his own noises get too embarrassing.

They grunted together as they thrust against each other, Ron trying to keep his movements steady as he moved his hand up and down their shafts simultaneously. Harry's arms wound around his torso beneath his own, pulling their bodies flush together.

"Ouch," Harry whispered, wincing.

"Sorry," Ron said, blushing. He had bit down too hard on Harry's skin, probably hurting him. But it seemed he soon forgot.

"Yeah," Harry whined, planting his feet on the bed to thrust up harder. Apparently Ron wasn't going hard enough. Their slick cocks slid together in his hand, rubbing in all the right places, but he was on a specific mission tonight.

"This isn't the reason I bought the lube, Harry," Ron whispered roughly. His stomach burned with arousal as he spoke against that soft skin. "You want to know why?"

Harry whimpered, but nodded with his eyes still closed.

"Because I like the feel of your arse," Ron continued, thrusting his hips hard against him to punctuate his sentence. "I want to be able to finger-fuck you properly."

"Fuck," Harry breathed, digging his nails into Ron's back.

"Do you want me to?" Ron teased slightly, knowing the answer already. "You want me to shove my fingers in you again?"

"Mph, yes," Harry said, blushing furiously, his wide green eyes staring up at him now.

Ron bit down on the crook of his neck, trying not to whimper. Those pouty lips were opened slightly as the boy beneath him panted. He wantonly thrust upward, driving Ron mad with his own desire, feeling that cock slip against his own. He gripped Harry's leg with his left hand and removed his right from between them reluctantly.

Ron dipped his fingers in the bottle this time, coating them thoroughly in the goopy liquid. It smelled faintly of cherries, which was supposedly how it was flavored too, but Ron was too preoccupied to try and taste it at the moment. He continued shoving his hips against Harry's, not wanting to stop the glorious feeling. However, he hiked up one of Harry's legs slightly to get his hand around to that arse.

He felt around until he located the entrance, and then slowly teased it like last time. Harry moaned, bucking wildly at the feeling. Ron couldn't help but stare as he pushed a bit harder, slowly trying to breech it without hurting him. His finger slid in a bit easier this time, due to the lubricant. The hands on his back tightened while Harry whined and turned his head to the side, panting loudly.

"Ngh, yeah," Harry said, eyes closed tight. Sweat beaded on his collarbone, but he urged Ron to keep going. "Like that. Uhn, deeper…don't stop."

"Fuck," Ron said shakily, resting his head on Harry's shoulder. He couldn't afford to hear this…Harry was too sexy when he was pleading and wanting so openly.

Ron concentrated on moving his finger gently, trying to distract himself just a little bit. Harry clutched at him desperately, not letting go for even a second. His stomach muscles were tight, his legs clenching at Ron's sides, his skin all flushed, and his midnight hair was even more messy than usual. All of them came together to form a beautiful picture.

Harry being fucked.

Ron felt the need to distract himself becoming a bit more dire, so he began talking again.

"Imagine what it'll be like," Ron said, trying to make his voice sound a bit less strangled. "Next time, when we go to the Burrow, I'll do this all over again. Only next time, I won't stop here."

Harry nodded, panting wildly, egging him on.

"I'll stretch you out nice and good…and then, when you're finally begging for me, I'll stick my cock in that sweet arse of yours," he whispered. He pushed a second finger in as he spoke, making Harry whimper slightly. "And I won't stop. I'll fuck you so hard you won't remember your own name. The only name you'll know is mine, because you'll be screaming it while you come."

Harry buried his face in the crook of Ron's neck. Ron could feel his hot breath spreading across the surface of his skin, coming out in heavy breaths. Harry's body shook slightly, but Ron wasn't done torturing him yet.

He slowed a bit, still rutting against Harry but pulling his fingers out altogether. Harry whined loudly, sounding extremely disappointed.

"What?" Ron asked smugly.

"I was so close!" Harry said. He pushed his hips upward furiously to try and seek his release, but Ron pinned them to the bed.

"Oh, you mean you don't like being teased?" he retorted.

Harry growled, glaring up at him.

"You have to beg for it," Ron whispered, nipping at his earlobe. He played his still slick fingers along Harry's arse cheek to tease him, and Harry groaned.

"Why?" he said, sounding frustrated.

"Because you were bad today," Ron tried to mutter sexily. "And bad boys need to be punished somehow, right?"

Harry sighed.

"Please?" he said exasperatedly.

"Please what?"

Harry growled again, thrusting his hips up. Ron tried not to mimic his actions and instead held his ground.

"Please…'finger-fuck' me," Harry murmured. His cheeks ignited almost instantly after the words left him. His wide green eyes looked away in embarrassment. However, Ron swore he felt Harry's cock twitch against his stomach. Plus…hearing him say things like that was hot.

Ron chuckled and slowly started moving his hips again while returning to his neck as well. He reached over, dipped his fingers in the bottle once more, and slithered his hand under Harry's arse.

Harry moaned as his fingers slipped inside easily this time. His hips moved, but they couldn't seem to decide whether to go up into Ron's cock or down onto his fingers.

"Yeah, fuck yourself," Ron breathed, stilling his hand. Harry whimpered and began grinding his hips downward.

He panted and moaned sensually. Harry's hands came up to grip his own black hair, pulling it slightly in his obvious frustration. Ron watched in amazement, lost in the sight of Harry and the feel of his cock against his own. Every once in a while, Harry would arch his back and cry out as he sank down on Ron's fingers, and each cry would send a jolt straight to Ron's dick.

"Fuck, you look so hot," Ron muttered, unable to contain himself.

Harry moaned, closing his eyes again. He continued to buck downward, clutching his hair, the sheets, Ron's hair…anything he could find.

"Uhn, so tight. I can't wait to bury my cock deep inside you," Ron groaned. He began thrusting harder, feeling the burn in his stomach. There was no way to stop it now. "Are you gonna ride my cock like you're riding these?"

He wiggled his fingers, which made Harry gasp. He nodded, clutching a handful of Ron's hair tightly. It hurt, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

"Oh…oh…" Harry whined. He tossed his head back, convulsing slightly. His legs clamped at Ron's sides and his eyes clenched shut. Ron worked his fingers against that magical spot, enjoying how Harry writhed pleasurably.

"Ah!" Harry shouted breathlessly, coming in spurts. Ron felt him tremble slightly as cum gushed from his erection, flowing between them. His arse tightened around Ron's fingers when he came, which pretty much did him in as well.

If that always happened, what would it feel like around his cock?

Ron moaned, feeling his own seed burst forth. He bit down on Harry's shoulder to muffle the noise as he climaxed and rutted hard against him, but his cries were only softened slightly by the delicate skin. Ron thrust through the waves of pleasure that wracked his body, wanting to hold on to the feeling as long as possible. The mess between their bodies became thicker, making both of them sticky and wet with their cum, but he didn't stop until absolutely necessary.

Panting, he raised up on his elbows, slowly removing his fingers from Harry's arse so as to not hurt him. Harry just lay there, looking completely relaxed and a bit dazed. Ron would be lying if he said he didn't feel a bit smug about having made Harry that way.

He flopped down next to him, mimicking his position and lying flat on his back. Ron crossed his arms behind his head, resting on them contentedly.

Life was fucking awesome.


	16. Practice

**Author'e Note: **This chapter is different than I originally posted, but only a small portion of the dialogue has been edited. The plot still fits and everything, so don't worry. Enjoy the chapter!

* * *

><p>Harry groaned as his emerald eyes cracked open. It was dim inside the cover of the curtains, but the sun was definitely up. He didn't want to go to class today. One. Bit.<p>

He looked over to notice that his face was resting against the bare chest of a certain Ronald Weasley. Harry's cheek was smashed sideways in an undignified manner, so he figured he must have fallen asleep pretty quickly after their frivolous groping, fingering, stroking, humping, and general snogging last night. Plus, they were both naked, so Ron must have been worn out as well and followed suit. Harry grinned and blushed slightly as he recalled the events.

He had his arm slung over Ron's chest and one of his legs was twined with the other's. Harry sighed contentedly, not wanting to let go.

He couldn't even remember a time when he felt so happy and just…relaxed. Not worrying about anything, or fighting to stay alive. He had woken up after a night of hormonal play with his boyfriend to see a peaceful morning. No one was screaming. No one was bleeding. There were no dreams of snakes or murders or torturing of the innocent. While he suspected his situation was slightly different than a typical relationship within the walls of Hogwarts, he felt almost normal. Like he wasn't some freak connected to the darkest wizard of all time.

"Hey," came a sleepy voice beside him.

Harry felt a kiss to the top of his head. Affection.

He would have to get used to it.

"Hey," he slurred back, looking up. Sapphire eyes greeted him, half-closed, but peaceful and happy looking.

Ron chuckled lightly, stretching one of his arms overhead. The other was underneath Harry, who felt too lazy to sit up and give it back. Ron didn't seem to mind, however, for when he relaxed Harry felt arms close around him tighter and the longer body settled against his. He wished desperately that it could stay that way, but they had to get up sometime.

"I should probably get back in my own bed," Harry sighed, still a bit groggy.

"Mmmnnnnooooooo," Ron whined, clutching to him tighter. Harry wheezed under the forceful hold.

"Okay…I'll stay…let me breathe…" he gasped, relieved when Ron let up a bit. He wore a satisfied smirk on his face, which was about an inch from Harry's, though his eyes were closed again.

Harry kissed him on the tip of the nose, because the sprinkling of freckles there were too adorable and they needed recognition. Ron chuckled and then snuggled into him further. Harry felt the warmth of his body radiating onto his own, which was unfamiliar to him, but nice.

Harry realized that he had never really been held like this before by anyone else. He was rarely hugged, and had barely known what a hug even was before he was eight years old.

During Primary School, there had been a new girl, roughly his own age, who hadn't been told yet of how dangerous and strange he was. That he was really a freak who hurt people by accident and wore baggy clothes. That he was a trouble maker and never did his schoolwork, and had messy hair and eyes too bright to be human. An outsider, basically. She had heard none of this, and had subsequently not treated him horribly. He realized now that it was perhaps the beginnings of a crush, but he couldn't fathom why.

Him, with his knobbly knees and skinny frame. Not-yet-broken glasses that were slightly too big for his face so that Uncle Vernon didn't have to pay for new ones when he grew out of them. Thin arms, small shoulders, and looking as though a strong breeze would easily carry him away. That was what had caught her eye.

So he had enjoyed the treatment, and thought maybe he might actually get a friend. He had, too, for about a day. She had come up in the play yard and asked if he wanted to play Conkers. Harry had never actually played, so she had to explain the rules, but he accepted the invitation eagerly. They had threaded the chestnuts themselves after picking them out carefully, and Harry had played his first game with his first real friend in what seemed like…well…ever.

* * *

><p>"<em>Strings!" she shouted, giggling madly.<em>

_Harry laughed, allowing her to take yet another shot. She pulled the chestnut back taught, then let it swing forward, smacking into his forcefully as he held it out before her. She was really good. No doubt his conker would be reduced to shards fairly soon._

_It was the most fun Harry had ever partaken in. He wasn't being punched, yelled at, or partially strangled, and he loved it. Was this what it was like to be normal? To not hate your life constantly?_

"_This is fun," he blurted before he could stop himself. He blushed slightly, and tilted his thin face down to try and hide it._

_He wasn't used to being around other people, let alone girls._

"_Yeah, it is, isn't it?" she said sweetly. Her Scottish accent was thick, alerting everyone that she wasn't from around here. She was the new girl, and everyone wanted to be associated with her, but for some wild reason she had chosen Harry to play with._

_He was nervous. Nothing good for him had ever lasted long, and if she was the new talk of the class, everyone would undoubtedly be seeking her out. Harry never wanted to have attention drawn to him. It never did him any good._

_But this 'friendship' thing was too good to pass up, even if it was only for a little while._

_He drew back his conker and aimed it steadily. The small chestnut fit nicely in his hand, tight and snug and easy to hold. He had picked up the game quickly enough, which was a slight surprise to him, but a pleasant one as well. Harry could get used to games like this._

_The conker flew through the air and struck her dangling one with a light _crack!_ She made a noise of surprise as hers broke, falling off the string._

"_Sorry," he said hurriedly. Harry stepped back, feeling guilty that he had won. He was supposed to let the girl win. That was how things worked._

_But she giggled and dropped her string, not looking angry or disappointed. "Good job," she said. She then lurched forward and surprised him by wrapping her arms around his narrow shoulders, embracing him freely. He was shocked, for no one had ever given him such praise when he had triumphed in anything, and this hug was the first he had ever received. He had seen Dudley get one several times from Aunt Petunia, but never had he been given one before._

_She pulled back and both of them were blushing. Harry felt embarrassed and all warm inside his tummy. But that shouldn't happen with random strangers who showed a simple act of comfort. He was just…grateful._

_Grateful for affection._

"_Want to play again?" she asked excitedly, pulling another chestnut from her pocket._

"_Oi, Potter!"_

_Of course._

_The thick voice of his cousin, Dudley, could be heard anywhere if he wanted it to be. His tantrums gave him the ability to throw it far with ease after much practice. Harry never understood why Dudley felt the need to call him 'Potter', either. It was probably in an effort to distance himself as a blood relative, which was fine as hell by him. He didn't want to be Dudley's cousin, and it made the betrayal of the constant bullying sting a bit less._

_His fat lug of a makeshift sibling came waddling up to the pair. Harry's conker dangled by his side sadly, the fun of this situation ruined. Trust Dudley to come fuck everything up._

_The girl looked a bit disgusted at the sight of Dudley, which gave Harry the mad urge to laugh. She said nothing, however, and watched the events unfold._

"_You got a girlfriend?" he sneered, his piggy eyes squinting in the sun._

_Harry sighed, not wanting to bother. He should just lay down on the ground now and save himself the trouble of getting punched and landing there anyways. He looked at his cousin warily, judging how long he had before he should run. He really didn't want to seem like a coward in front of the new girl, but he also really didn't want a smack to the face._

"_She's not my girlfriend," Harry said exasperatedly._

_A pink tinge crept onto her cheeks. Harry wondered vaguely what her problem was, but assumed it was Dudley's taunting that got her embarrassed._

"_Doesn't she know how weird you are?" Dudley said to the laughter of his friends surrounding him. The girl looked at him, confused._

"_Don't," Harry almost pleaded, wishing he would just go off and leave him alone. Didn't he get enough of it at home?_

"_He's dangerous, he is," Dudley said, looking serious now as he spoke to the girl. His eyes widened with feigned worry for her. "Does freaky things to people."_

"_Like what?" she asked suspiciously. There was doubt at his words, but a lingering concern in her voice as well. She was unsure if he was lying or telling the truth._

"_One time, he made a friend, but they never saw him again," Dudley said cryptically. His friends held back snickers as her eyes widened comically. "Just disappeared one day. Did away with him."_

"_I did not!" Harry shouted indignantly. The story was a total fabrication, but even that was a new low for Dudley. He had never even had a real friend that he could remember except for the one he had made about fifteen minutes ago. The girl, Harry could now see, wouldn't remain one for long though. She was looking at him fearfully._

_The conker lay on the ground forgotten as he balled his hands into fists._

"_I hate you," he spat furiously at his cousin, determined not to shed the tears that threatened to break free. Boys didn't cry. _He_ didn't cry. Especially when people were too stupid to think for themselves and not believe Dudley's lies. Harry didn't need friends. He didn't need anybody._

_He growled and shoved the enormous blonde backward, making him stumble and almost fall. Harry felt rather proud of the fact that he had been able to shift Dudley at all, really, considering his rapidly increasing weight._

_Dudley pulled back his fist and swung, but Harry was too quick for him. The fist sailed through the air while Harry was already a meter away, sprinting to try and find somewhere to hide. He didn't care about the girl anymore. She was just like the others._

_He was alone again._

_Harry's breath came out hard as his feet pounded on the ground. He looked around wildly, knowing he would pay for his outburst by probably being held down and wailed on for a considerable amount of time before one of the adults found them. He needed to get away before he was reduced to a bloody pulp. He could hear the laughter and catcalls behind him as he was tracked like an animal._

_Rage burned inside Harry, along with fear and sadness. A tear escaped while the wind whipped at his face, and he wiped it away angrily. Stupid Dudley and his stupid friends, always making his life a living hell. He would show them one day…_

_He chanced a glance back and saw with alarm that they were closer than he had originally thought. He pushed harder, running with all his might. How in the hell was Dudley able to keep up with all that fat weighing him down?_

_To his horror, he felt a hand graze the back of his shirt, barely missing him, and his stomach leapt. He saw two rubbish bins up ahead blocking his path and groaned. He would have to jump them in order to escape. They could be a blessing or a curse. If he cleared them, they would slow down his pursuers, but if he tripped over them like an idiot…well..._

_He hurtled towards them with all his speed and sprung as high as he could. He watched, relieved, as they passed beneath him. It was a high enough jump. He was going to make it. Harry's feet connected with ground again and he continued running, hearing shouts of awe and exclamations behind him._

_Harry smirked, feeling superior for once. Try as Dudley might, his weight would ensure that he never got over those rubbish bins._

_He would have remained smug if he hadn't been required to come skidding to a halt. Eyes wide, Harry looked down._

_He was peering over the edge of the school, the ledge at his very toes. Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing. The front pavement was visible way down at the ground, looking much smaller than usual, and he suddenly felt dizzy. He whipped around to see Dudley and his gang far below at the back of the building, where he had apparently just come from, standing on the grass next to the bins and looking bewildered._

_How in the bloody hell had he ended up on the roof?_

* * *

><p>"Shit, Harry, wake up! We're late for Potions!"<p>

Harry jolted awake, feeling a hand shaking his shoulder violently. He looked up blearily to see a redhead above him, wide-eyed and panicked. Though, very out of focus.

"Damn," he said, registering what Ron had just told him. He struggled up onto his elbows and groped for his glasses on the end table. Ron's figure disappeared for a moment as he ducked beneath the bed. Harry growled as his hand scrabbled around on the empty wooden surface. "Oi, do you know where my – ?"

"Here."

Harry felt the wire frames shoved onto his face and his vision came into clarity. He looked up questioningly at Ron, who grinned.

"They were…er…on the floor," he said, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.

Harry laughed, rolling out of the bed with as much vigor as he could muster. They began hurriedly finding clothes and dressing for the day.

"Have you seen my blue shirt?"

"Yeah, here it is. Where's my – ?"

"Over there. Sorry, didn't mean to throw it so far. Shit, I don't have any clean robes."

"Me neither. I guess these are good enough…"

When they had got all sorted out with slightly wrinkled school robes on, Harry reached for his bag to check that he had all his proper books for today's lessons. Ron always chose to heave them all around, since he never bothered switching them out. He always said it was better than forgetting. Harry wondered why he even bothered, really, because he couldn't quite remember a specific time when Ron had even opened his books during class.

Ron gave him a quick kiss on the lips as Harry headed for the door. Harry grinned slightly, biting his lower lip and trying not to swoon.

He opened the door, the unhappy dream already forgotten.

* * *

><p>"Last class of the daaaaaay!" Ron said in a sing-song voice.<p>

"You sound like Luna," Hermione giggled.

Harry knew that Ron _must _have been happy about something. He rarely sang, especially in such a giddy way, and he hadn't even scowled at Hermione's statement. They wandered along the hall at a leisurely pace, since they had a fair amount of time before they had to be in their seats for Charms. Harry quirked an eyebrow at Ron, who shrugged unashamedly.

"What's so special about today?" Harry asked.

"Because it's the last day before we leave for Christmas!" Ron said incredulously. "Am I the only one who remembered?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said, looking a bit surprised that she had forgotten. "I've been worrying about this Ancient Runes Essay that I –"

"I never leave, so I didn't even know," Harry said, shrugging.

"Well, _we_ leave sometimes," Ron said matter-of-factly, gesturing between him and Hermione. "I'm sure you notice we're gone. What_ do_ you do when we leave, anyways?"

"Er…wait for you to get back," Harry said pathetically.

"Oh, poor baby," Ron cooed, sticking out his bottom lip.

"You can make it up to me later," Harry purred. He smirked as Hermione made a retching noise beside them. "As an early Christmas present."

"What did you get me for Christmas, anyways?" Ron asked eagerly. He always tried to get it out of everyone before the actual day, which seemed pointless to Harry. What was the point in wrapping the bloody thing if he was just going to say what it was?

Like hell.

"Hippogriff," Harry lied, grinning.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Buckbeak laid eggs."

"Buckbeak's a boy Hippogriff…"

"I think he's onto you, Harry," Hermione said, shaking her head. They all laughed, filing into the classroom as Professor Flitwick tried to climb onto his pile of books for the lesson.

* * *

><p>"Oh fuck…uhn, Ron…yeah…don't stop…"<p>

Harry heard a grunt from below as he threaded his fingers through red hair. Ron sucked harder, earning another moan from Harry.

They had been packing their trunks in order to be ready for the train tomorrow morning. Upon Flitwick's dismissal, all homework and responsibility was swiftly forgotten and replaced by utter excitement for the holidays to begin. The prospect of leaving the demands of school to relax at the Burrow was too enticing, for Harry had never been there during Christmas before. He didn't doubt it would be spectacular, especially with his newfound relationship with the youngest Weasley brother. However, Ron had been getting a bit handsy as the evening progressed, which ended with Harry sprawled on his back and Ron's face between his legs, saying he needed more practice. Their robes, which had been so hurriedly put on in their frenzy this morning, lay abandoned on the floor yet again. Other clothes were strewn about as well, unpacked like they should have been.

Harry whined breathlessly, feeling Ron's tongue work the underside of his cock. Ron's hands were trailing up his torso, playing along his skin and driving him nearly insane. All the stimulation he could bring with one touch was so overwhelming. Those nimble fingers weren't just good for that, though…

"Yes," Harry breathed, bucking his hips up as Ron's hot, wet mouth enclosed him fully. "Mm, fuck. So good…"

Ron's fingers skimmed over his nipple, making Harry bite his lower lip to stifle another moan. His face was flushed as he watched his cock disappear into Ron's mouth. Ron's hand continued to roam beneath his shirt as it willed, seemingly encouraged by his desperate pleading. Harry's boxers had been abandoned on the floor not long after his robes, and he could see Ron's obvious arousal beneath his own underwear. The thought of Ron's cock made him groan slightly.

He couldn't be too vocal. Anyone could walk in at any moment. It was lucky they had drawn the curtains, but there was no Muffliato charm around them. The thrill, however, of possibly being caught, of someone knowing he was getting blown out of his mind, seemed to make him all the more randy for it. Plus, Ron was doing a wonderful job.

"Jesus…" Harry moaned, closing his eyes. Ron's tongue was swirling dangerously around the tip of his penis. He knew Harry couldn't stand it when he did that...

While Harry was trying to form coherent words to tell Ron how he thought they should practice more often, he suddenly froze. Ron stilled as well as the clear sound of the door to the dorm opening reverberated around the room. The wooden creak was deafening over their heavy panting.

"Oh, I reckon it's bloody fine," came a familiar Irish voice.

Harry tried not to laugh as he looked down and saw Ron's mouth still around him. The picture was still hot, so it had its merits. Ron flicked his tongue teasingly, and Harry had to hold his breath to refrain from blowing their cover.

"Yeah, but I just…I don't know about all of this, though. What if we're caught or something?" Dean's voice followed.

Harry frowned, wondering what they were up to.

"Oi, it was your idea," Seamus laughed. "Besides, we had about a million bottles at that last party. How come you didn't freak out then?"

"I dunno. I guess it couldn't be any worse. It's just, we won't be able to put the blame on Ron this time," Dean said. Both of them laughed. Harry heard the distinct sound of a cork popping open and then sparks shooting everywhere.

It seemed some people were already celebrating the holidays a bit early.

"Speaking of which, how is it with you and…er…Ginny?"

"I dunno, mate. She's been a right pain today. You know, she even tried to coax me into snogging in the hall before Charms, running her hands on me and all that…"

Harry could feel Ron tense. He realized that hearing intimate things about your sister with another bloke's dick in your mouth must be bringing up some complicated feelings.

"So, what then?"

"Well, you know how things went yesterday. And plus…well, don't tell anybody, obviously, but…"

Harry waited eagerly, but Ron seemed a bit foreboding. Though, it was a bit hard to tell in his current position.

"I won't," Seamus pressed. It sounded as though he took a sip of the Firewhiskey.

"It doesn't…feel right. I dunno. I mean, I thought it would just be a fight, and we'd work it out. But I dunno this time…"

"Oh? Bummer…"

Seamus didn't sound very upset, though. He almost sounded happy.

"Yeah. I've been thinking of calling it off. But, Nev says I should give her a chance. He says things with Luna aren't always perfect either, but you've just got to work at it."

"Ah…yeah."

"Oi, speaking of Weasleys, where _is_ Ron, anyways?"

"I dunno," Seamus sounded a bit nervous. Harry's eyes widened as he wondered if Dean was getting suspicious.

"It seems like he and Harry are always off somewhere, doesn't it?" Dean confirmed Harry's suspicions.

As Harry tried to fight off the heart attack, Ron slowly began moving again. Harry looked down at him, shaking his head. It was too risky with other boys in the room.

But Ron paid him no attention. It almost looked like he smirked, but Harry's cock was in the way. Harry was achingly hard, and completely aroused, but he was also a bit panicked. What if they heard? Plus, Dean was already getting suspicious…

"They're probably off doing their normal stuff, you know them. I heard they bought a huge amount of Dungbombs last Hogsmeade weekend," Seamus lied smoothly. Harry felt a bit grateful for him looking out. Plus, what he said wasn't exactly a lie anyways.

Five Galleons worth.

Harry gasped, feeling that sinful tongue again. He tightened his grip in Ron's hair to try and get him to stop. Ron reached up and seized his wrists, pinning them to the bed to prevent him from struggling. It seemed he was determined to make Harry suffer.

While hearing the idle chatter, which Seamus had artfully steered away from their disappearances and Ron's sister, Harry was finding it increasingly difficult to keep quiet. He writhed beneath Ron to try and get some of his frustrations out, but let slip a gasp when Ron swallowed around the head of his cock. Luckily, it didn't seem like the other two had heard him. Apparently Seamus's incessant talking was a good thing sometimes.

Harry bit his lower lip to stifle any more sound and closed his eyes. Ron was _so _paying for this later.

With a muffled cry, Harry came as silently as he could. His panting and slight convulsing went unnoticed by anyone. Well, anyone besides Ron, that is. He was currently milking Harry for all he was worth while two of their dorm mates were sitting across the room, drinking merrily and completely oblivious to the orgasm that was happening a few feet away.

Finally, Harry stilled and lay limply on the bed. His hands were released and Ron sat up, looking pleased with himself.

"Arse," Harry whispered, reaching up and pulling him down for a rough kiss. Ron gave a light chuckle, but stuck his tongue into Harry's mouth nonetheless.

Harry reached up stealthily while the redhead didn't notice, then flung Ron off of him with force. Their lips parted in a light _smack _as Ron was pushed to the side. His eyes were wide as he landed on his back.

"Your turn," Harry whispered menacingly. He smirked as he crawled down to rest between Ron's legs.

They would never get to finish packing at this rate.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note Again: <strong>So like, it would be cool if people could review and stuff. Perhaps whore me out to your friends. Say cool stuff about me behind my back. It lets me know that someone's actually reading this and I'm not bitterly alone. Or, depending on your review, it could tell me that I totally suck at writing. Hopefully that's not the case...

Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far!


	17. Five Minutes In

**Author's Note: **I would like to say 'thank you' to everyone (or 'merci' and 'vielen Dank' to certain others) who has reviewed so far! I squeal like a little girl every time I see one, just so you know. It's a bit depressing, though, considering I'm nineteen. And a guy.

* * *

><p>"Have you seen my shirt?"<p>

"Which one?"

"The blue one."

"Oh, I like that one. It brings out your _eyes._"

"Sod off," Ron said, laughing at the same time. He shoved Harry playfully before ducking under the bed in search for the wretched article of clothing.

"Oi, see if my pants are down there too," Harry said absently.

Ron made a noise in the affirmative as he reached blindly around. The thought of touching Harry's pants was a lot less scary than it would have been a couple weeks ago. How was it so bloody dark down here?

His hands closed around some sort of fabric, which he triumphantly pulled out to view in the light. They were pants…but not Harry's.

"Ew," Ron said, dropping them like they were ablaze. He had an inkling as to whose they were, because it looked to be the pattern of the Irish flag. That, or the Italian one, in which case he would have no bloody idea who they belonged to.

He found nothing else under the bed, so he left the foreign pants on the floor for Seamus to find later. Like hell he would touch them again.

He eventually found his blue shirt stuffed underneath his mattress. He had absolutely no idea how it had ended up there, but his clothes always seemed to have a mind of their own.

Ron supposed that he could have gotten his frantic searching for articles of clothing over with already last night. However, once he had begun sucking Harry off, it was a bit difficult to think of the consequences. Harry was just too alluring, with his taught little arse presenting itself every time he bent down to pick up an object, or when he nibbled on his full bottom lip whenever he was trying to remember where he put something. He was doing it again now, even, as Ron leered at him from across the room. He had never known packing to be so arousing before. That was why he had thrown the raven-haired boy down and orally molested him for about half an hour. Harry was just too hot for his own good, and way too fun to tease. However, Seamus and Dean's presence in the room hadn't stopped Harry from flipping him over and repaying him for his trouble.

Damn, he was getting hard again.

One would think he would have been eager to pack, too. Ron was perhaps a bit more excited than usual about the holidays this year, and not because he was looking forward to seeing his family or receiving presents. Well, perhaps it was _sort of _considered a present…a present for him and Harry…

Hell. He couldn't even imagine what it was going to be like. Here he had Harry, who was equally as hormonal and drove Ron wild with just a look, or a soft lick of those lips, or a breathy moan, and Harry let Ron do the filthiest things to him. His reactions, though, were the best part. Ron wondered if Harry just sat around all day thinking of the most erotic ways to express his pleasure, because it bloody well seemed like it. He liked the way Harry clutched at him when they were all hot and bothered. He liked how Harry whined and moaned, but in a breathless way, as if he was trying but couldn't contain it. He even liked how Harry pulled his hair, or forcefully pushed him down on his cock so that he would be taken deeper. How could it get any better?

Ron cut off his thoughts right there, because there was no way in hell he would get through them without having to unpack his lube again.

They hastily packed the rest of their shoes, shirts, underwear, trousers, scarves, owl treats, quills, homework, snacks, sweets, and the presents they had bought last Hogsmeade trip. Harry had been a bit too ecstatic about spending Christmas at the Burrow, and had bought everyone at least two gifts. When asked about it, he shrugged and merely said it was Christmas. Ron had to assist him in closing his trunk.

It made him a bit sad, really, to think that Harry never had a real family to go home to for Christmas. Sometimes he would forget. Forget that Harry's life was tragic and that he had been neglected for so long, and that all he had to look forward to was two fat lugs and a horsey old woman to return to for the summer. Harry would sometimes laugh so lightheartedly, or smile so brightly, that Ron would momentarily forget what he had been through. It was gestures like this, buying a load of presents for people who dared show him kindness, that made Ron sad. Harry shouldn't have to be overly grateful for such a simple thing.

It should be normal to him. To be loved.

Of course, why he would want to be involved in Ron's mad family was always a mystery to him. Ron liked them because he figured he was mad too, so it just came with the insanity. But no one else was obliged to tolerate them…

"I'm really glad you invited me," Harry said quietly, as if he were able to read Ron's thoughts exactly.

Ron smiled and pecked him on the cheek as he walked by.

"No problem. I figure since you let me put my cock in your mouth, you at least deserve a nice holiday," he said over his shoulder.

The stinging hex shot his way was narrowly dodged as he scurried into the bathroom.

* * *

><p>"Thank Merlin we made it," Ron sighed, sinking into one of the compartment seats.<p>

"Yes, what exactly were you two doing last night to where you couldn't find the time to pack?" Hermione asked, her innocent tone fooling no one.

"Shut it, you," Ron said, glaring as hard as he could manage.

Harry grunted as he tried to shove his trunk up into the luggage container. It sounded like it kept hitting something, but Ron wasn't really offering to help. He had a perfect view of Harry's arse while he was standing on the seat opposite him, so he figured Harry could work it out on his own. If it took him a while, eh. It would build character.

It was Harry's own fault for wearing those insanely tight jeans and that wickedly fitted shirt. The shirt clung to Harry's biceps in a delicious way, and those particular trousers showed every sinful curve of that arse, so tight and firm. Yet, Ron was still able to get a handful of said arse if he wanted to, so it wasn't _too _firm. Just firm enough to be immensely arousing, giving him a bloody erection every time Harry did shit like this. Did he not know how hot he was? That bloke needed to protect his body. What if Ron wasn't the only one eye-fucking him all day? He felt unreasonably jealous all of a sudden. Hell if he was going to let someone else move in on _his_ boyfriend_._ Yeah, he said it.

"Ron."

"Get away from him – I mean – what?" Ron said vaguely.

His view was suddenly obstructed by a snapping pair of fingers, which were being extremely annoying when they were clicking right in front of his face like that. They were in the way of the arse…

He turned irritably to face the bushy-haired culprit.

"Focus, Ron. _Did you finish the Charms worksheet?" _she asked for apparently the second time.

He was then lectured for nearly ten minutes as to why it was important to get one's school work done early on in the holidays, so as to be able to enjoy the rest of the break. It wasn't anything he didn't know, he just didn't care_._

And now Harry was sat down. Damn it all to _hell._

The trolley soon came round, and Harry immediately jumped up again. Some muttering, rustling, and the jingle of coins signaled a fairly hefty purchase. They had missed breakfast, after all, and Ron's stomach had been occasionally growling for a good hour. Once Harry returned, laden with various snacks and sweets, he dumped them in the middle of the floor, gesturing vaguely at them as an indication of sharing.

"So, what d'you reckon we'll do? Besides homework, of course," Harry asked, grinning innocently in Hermione's direction as he settled a small pile of sweets next to himself.

"Well, we could always have wild, crazy s– " but Ron's thought was interrupted as Harry chucked a chocolate frog at him. It bounced off his shoulder and onto the floor, where it rattled indignantly. Clearly, the frog inside was not pleased.

Hermione giggled, but it was muffled in her attempts to hide it.

"Play chess?" Ron smiled sheepishly.

"That's what I thought you said," Harry glared, unwrapping a licorice wand.

Ron retrieved the frog from the floor, as well as scooping up a healthy amount of snacks from the pile, and sat back down. He sprawled his legs out and settled in for a good, long, eat.

"What do you do when you're at home, Hermione?" Harry asked. The wand snapped elastically as he pulled a piece off with his teeth.

"Sometimes mum and dad plan a trip to the Forest of Dean," she said, a hint of excitement in her voice. "They usually surprise me with it, though. But other times we visit my aunt and uncle. They have a girl, about my age. My cousin Emma."

Ron saw a brief flash of something cross Harry's face. Whenever anybody mentioned cousins, he always got rather quiet.

"How do you all get to the forest?" Ron asked curiously. "You use those cars?"

"Yes," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.

"I thought muggle ones couldn't travel very far. Don't they like, break down all the time and stuff?" he said, confused. When his dad had been fixing the Ford Anglia, he said it kept breaking apart, so he had to charm a few of the parts to get it to fit right again. Ron had always seen them as feeble, almost dangerous machines when not powered by the stability of magic.

"No, Ron, they work perfectly fine," she said. Her and Harry exchanged a slightly amused glance, but quickly looked away again.

"Well then, what happens when they do break?" he asked curiously. Good lord, he was turning into his father…

"There's people called mechanics to fix them. Or, if you know a fair bit, you can probably fix it yourself," she explained. "Dad was able to fix the radiator once, but that was the extent of his mechanical genius."

"Uncle Vernon's car got badly dented once," Harry said, laughing. "He was livid. It was expensive, of course, but apparently not built enough to handle a Playstation being chucked at it."

"Good Lord, who did that?" Hermione said, eyes wide.

"What's a bloody Playstation?" Ron asked, confused.

"Dudley. And a Playstation is a sort of computer thing you can play games on…"

"…Computer?"

Harry and Hermione laughed loudly, to which Ron felt very put out.

Suddenly, the compartment door opened, and a familiar sight of red hair alerted Ron of family. It was sort of a thing one learned to watch for when all of your older brothers had it out for you, yet were similar in appearance to yourself. Somewhat of an advantage, really.

"Hello," Ginny said, smiling briefly. She sat next to Harry, stealing a Fizzing Whizzbee out of his pile of sweets. "You know you're not meant to be having these, Harry. You don't want your ear to swell up again."

"Oh, didn't know it was there," Harry said shiftily.

"Harry! Have you learned nothing?" Hermione scolded. She shook her head disapprovingly.

"I was perfectly well able to eat them before!" he said defensively, though sunk back in his seat again. Ron couldn't help notice the adorableness of his…everything.

His midnight black hair, his bright green eyes, his smooth skin, and that sheepish grin that was now working its way onto his face as Hermione told him off for being reckless with his allergy. All of it was fucking sexy and…cute. Bloody adorable.

Ron wasn't going to survive the entire train ride home.

"Alright, alright. I _won't,_" Harry said, rolling his eyes. Hermione seemed satisfied, and let it be.

Ginny shifted a bit closer to Harry as she dug through the pile of sweets. Ron stiffened slightly. He was a bit curious at Ginny's seating choice, really. He was aware of his sister's previous crush on Harry, but was unsure as to how much it had faded, and how strong it remained. Perhaps she was just better at hiding it now. She would certainly be in for a disappointment if she was still holding out…

As Ron watched, he kept seeing her eyes flicker over to the other boy. His suspicion turned into anger while she and Hermione chatted nonchalantly. Wasn't she supposed to be dating Dean, anyways? Not that he was keen on that either, but it was better than having to beat his sister away with a stick so that she didn't steal the object of his affections. Couldn't she bugger off and go find another bloke to snog? He smirked slightly as he realized that, no matter how much Ginny may like Harry, she wasn't the one fingering him to completion at night or getting her dick sucked like a lollipop. Hell, she didn't even_ have_ a dick for him to suck.

In somewhat higher spirits, he chose to ignore her lingering glances at the Chosen One and instead bit off the head of another frog. It's headless body struggled weakly in his hand, and then fell limp as if it were dead. Sometimes they made these things a little _too_ real…

Eventually Ginny left, no doubt finding little entertainment in their increasingly boring company. Hermione had retreated into one of her books, and Harry and Ron were discussing Quidditch, so she had wandered off looking for Luna, saying that she might return later. Harry drew the curtain to the window after her, giving them more privacy in their small compartment. It was when Harry walked over and sat on one of his legs that Ron realized why.

"Does this…I dunno…bother you?" Harry asked as an afterthought, looking over at Hermione.

"Just don't start snogging and I think I can handle it," she said jokingly, not looking up from her book.

Harry smirked slightly and leaned his back to Ron's chest, ripping open another licorice wand. Ron felt that tingly feeling in his stomach again. Harry was so close, so innocently oblivious to the feelings stirring deep within him. The feelings he caused to become more prominent each time he did simple things like this, like just being close, or complimenting his schoolwork, or slipping into his bed at night. Even just by looking overly adorable at one point or another. Almost instinctually, Ron slid his hand around Harry's waist to keep him more securely on his lap, allowing him to relax more into his chest. He could definitely get used to this if it always felt like this. This tingly feeling of just being comfortable around each other. Being happy.

Ron knew he was grinning like an idiot, so he rested his chin on Harry's shoulder to try and shut his own mouth.

With the warmth of Harry against him, his extreme contentedness, and the lack of sleep he had gotten last night due to their…activities…Ron began to feel a bit drowsy. He could feel the rhythmic movement of Harry's back as he breathed gently, wrestling slightly with his teeth on the licorice. Ron's head tilted sideways to look out the window. The trees sped by, snow hanging gently on their branches, completely silent next to the dull rumble of the train. It was quite clearly Christmas time, what with all the peace and calmness in the air.

Ron placed a small kiss to the back of Harry's neck, and that was the last thing he remembered before drifting off into sleep.

* * *

><p>"<em>Muuuuuuuum!" Ron wailed, sprinting into the room with fat tears trailing down his cheeks. He tripped on a snag in the carpet, which only succeeded in making him cry harder as he sprawled on the floor inelegantly. He was clutching something wooden, which also appeared to be broken, as he crumpled in a heap on the floor.<em>

"_What is it, darling?" his mother said, scooping him up into her arms. She set him on her hip and held him securely while his legs dangled above the floor._

_Ron wiped his eyes, trying to clear the tears away enough to see properly._

"_I – I fell down the stairs!" he said through shuddering sobs._

"_Oh, dear. How did that happen?"_

"_It was an accident!" he cried, more tears streaming down his face. The sleeve of his size two robes, which were so small to fit his three-year-old body, was trying to stem the flow. "I was flying on Fred's broom! I broke it!"_

_He held up the toy broomstick, which was indeed splintered in the middle. His mother tisked and took the broken toy, turning it over in her hands. There was no way to fix it. It was finished._

"_He's gonna hate me!" Ron wailed again, small sobs coming faster with his panic._

"_No, dear, he won't hate you," she insisted, though a bit warily. No one wanted to be on the twins' bad side, for they seemed to band together whenever one of them suffered an injustice. Plus, their methods of revenge were often…unfortunately creative._

_Ron sniffed, burying his face in his mother's shoulder. Hopefully, her presence would be enough to protect him for at least a little while._

"_Why don't we both tell Fred?" she said lightly, probably sensing his unease._

"_Okay," Ron said, his voice muffled by the fabric of her magenta robes._

"_Are you alright? You're not hurt at all?"_

"_No."_

"_Alright. Why don't you go and try to find Winston to make you feel better, and I'll go get Fred."_

_Ron nodded solemnly. His mother placed him back on his feet and he ran off to the stairs. He wasn't particularly keen on them, considering the unpleasant journey he had just taken down a flight, but his room was at the very top and Winston was currently residing on his bed._

_Winston was his stuffed bear, which he had owned since birth. His dad had bought him from St. Mungo's gift shop right after he was born and brought it to the ward he was in. Winston was blue, and a bit shabby looking after so many years, but at least had all his limbs and facial features still. One of his eyes had nearly been lost after he had Apparated with his father on a business trip, but his mother had reattached it soon after. No one wanted a half-blind bear, after all._

_Ron grabbed him off of the bedspread and ran back downstairs. He was eager to get the confession over with, for he wasn't looking forward to the consequences. The twins were often merciless._

_Trying to quell the tears and be brave, he crept into the sitting room. He saw his mum on the couch, with Fred standing before her as she spoke softly. She saw him approach and pulled Ron into her lap._

"_Ronald, would you like to tell Fred what happened?" she said, a hint of encouragement in her voice._

"_I – I broke your broom," he mumbled, not looking up._

"_What?" Fred whined immediately, sounding angry._

"_I fell down the stairs when I was riding it, and it broke," he said fearfully, finally meeting his brother's gaze._

_Fred growled furiously, his brown eyes ablaze._

"_I said you could ride it, not break it in half!" his small voice shouted, sounding uncharacteristic for a five-year-old. Though, there was a hint of childish injustice that more suited him laced with the anger._

"_It was an accident," Ron whimpered, clutching Winston to his chest for protection._

_Fred's livid gaze fell on the bear, and then all hell broke loose._

_Ron shouted in surprise, dropping Winston._

"_FRED!" shouted his mother, who stood up angrily._

"_Sorry," Fred smirked, crossing his arms. "It was an accident."_

_Ron's tears started up again as he watched Winston scuttle away. But he was no longer a bear. He had sprouted eight legs, too many eyes, and was a sickly, hairy brown spider. Its legs jerked oddly as it went, and its glassy black eyes darted around. Finally, it took refuge beneath the armchair, Ron's sobs and their mother's shouts echoing throughout the house._

* * *

><p>"Ron, we're here."<p>

He felt a light kiss to his nose and cracked his eyes open.

"Aw, isn't he adorable?"

"Bloody hell," Ron slurred, sitting up from his slumped position.

He hadn't meant to sleep the whole way. It probably wasn't a very friendly goodbye to Hermione, since they wouldn't see her for two weeks and all. Though, she was probably used to his idiocy by now, he thought. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and yawned.

Harry pulled him to his feet and placed his hand on his trunk for him, maneuvering him like a ragdoll. Regaining use of his legs, Ron shuffled towards the door and opened it, leading their way out of the compartment in a sort of auto-pilot state. The narrow hallway was crowded and moved slowly with the sudden surge of students eager to get home. However, it gave him enough time to open his eyes properly as they inched along towards the exit of the train.

When they walked onto the platform, he heard the inevitable shriek of his mother and felt her arms embrace him tightly. His vision was obstructed by orange as her hair fell in front of his face.

"It's good to see you dear!" she said, squeezing him tighter.

"Love you too mum…air…" he wheezed, taking a great breath when she released him and moved on to try and strangle Ginny next.

He then heard the jumbled greetings of all his brothers, who seemed to have found it necessary to accompany their parents for some reason. He tried to retreat, but the twins got to him first, pulling him into a three-person hug.

"Oi Ron, you don't want to ignore your _favorite _brother, eh?" said George, ruffling his hair annoyingly.

"Yeah, and don't leave poor George out, either. He gets lonely," Fred added in a mock undertone.

The twins then began squabbling, providing Ron with a distraction so that he could escape their clutches. A strong hand clapped him on the back as he righted his shirt, nearly sending him careening into Bill.

"Hey Ron," Charlie said, grinning and giving him a hug that rivaled his mother's when it came to air deprivation. Probably due to his considerably larger arms than last time Ron had seen him. He was sporting a new scar, this time on his bicep, which looked oddly like pointed teeth had been clamped there not weeks ago. Knowing Charlie, it was just another day at work though. It was always the poisonous bites that never healed right. "Thanks for the card by the way. More than I got from this lot…"

Ron laughed (in a somewhat strangled way), as Charlie glared directly at Bill, who smiled sheepishly.

"Oi, I made up for it with your Christmas presents," he said, shrugging. Ron noticed that Bill had shown resilience against their mother by keeping the fanged earring. Also, she had apparently had been joking when she threatened to cut his hair in his sleep, because it was still long and tied back like it always was.

Ron hoped his own would survive the break. Once summer struck she could do whatever she bloody wanted, but not now.

He thought he was in the clear, but was apparently foolish to assume so. Bill seized him and gave him a firm hug while saying, "Trying to out-grow the whole family, Ron? Merlin…"

"It's a work in progress," Ron said, grinning and wrestling himself free. Everyone talked around and at him, their voices converging into one loud sound. This was usually how it went, while all of them were together, but never quite so quickly.

He escaped the throng of redheads and stood next to Ginny, sharing a look with her of exasperation. It was already getting to be too much, and they weren't even home yet.

"We're in about what, five minutes?" Ron asked in an undertone.

"New record," she replied, sighing.

They stared as Harry was now assaulted by the entire family, having his hair rumpled and his glasses knocked askew. Ron felt like he should make some sort of effort to save him, but it was a bit too entertaining to stop watching. Plus, if they were dating, he would have to get used to it. Being mauled was something that was bound to occur when one of them was gone for over a week.

Harry laughed and, once all of his hellos were completed, straightened his glasses and stood beside them.

Harry seemed to realize something as he looked around.

"How are we getting back to the Burrow?" he asked, looking innocently confused.

"Apparating, right mum?" Ginny said, peeking over Ron's shoulder.

Ron didn't see any Ministry cars, and he really doubted his mum would have let his dad own another car…not since last time…

"Yes dear," she said absently, looking in her handbag for something.

"Oh," Harry said. He sounded a bit foreboding.

Ron laughed. He didn't like it either.

"We'll take Ronnikins," Fred said nonchalantly.

"Like hell," Ron said, narrowing his eyes. "I don't fancy getting splinched because of you two."

"Ronald," his mother scolded, looking at him disapprovingly.

He found it interesting that he could go from 'dear' to 'Ronald' in ten seconds flat. However, he felt extremely nervous at having Fred and George apparate him home. Knowing them, they wouldn't be able to decide who was in charge of the route and they would end up tearing him in half. He could hear Harry behind him, trying to stifle his laughter.

"George, you can take Ron, and Fred can take Harry," she said sternly. "Problem solved."

"Harry!" Fred shouted enthusiastically. He lunged forward and dragged Harry towards him. Poor Harry looked surprised at the attack, and while he was manhandled by the twin, his eyes widened comically.

"Sounds fair to me," Ron said shrugging. He supposed it was the best he was going to get. George's concentration wasn't the most reliable, and Ron would be lying if he said he trusted George fully. But Ron decided that he would be safe under the threat of mum's rage should he try to leave him somewhere desolate in the wilderness.

Hermione walked up just then, with a slightly angry looking Crookshanks confined inside a basket. Ron had wondered where she had run off to.

"Well, I suppose I'll see you boys after the holidays," she said brightly, looking back momentarily at her parents standing not far off. They looked nervous and out of place.

"Yeah," Ron said, reaching forward and giving her a one-armed hug. "We'll see you at the start of term, I guess."

"Oh!" Harry said after Hermione had finished hugging him as well. He reached down and rummaged in his pocket, pulling out a cheerily wrapped present. "Here," he said, grinning and handing it to her. "Can't open it yet, though. Wait till Christmas. I thought I'd save Hedwig the trip."

"Oh, thank you Harry," she said happily, hugging him a second time.

"Mine's buried in my trunk somewhere," Ron said sheepishly, gesturing towards the monstrosity of a thing. "Looks like Pig doesn't get off as easy."

Laughing, she waved at them and retreated towards her parents.

"Happy Christmas!" she shouted as an afterthought from across the platform.

"Happy Christmas!" shouted back nine voices. Oddly in a fairly well synchronized way, too.

After a bit of shuffling about and rearrangement of trunks, they all positioned themselves with their respective partners. Ginny sided with their father. When everyone was ready, they disappeared with a series of loud cracks that echoed through the station.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note Again: <strong>I have no idea what possessed me to write the dream. I guess because I always imagined that to be how Ron's fear of spiders came about (which is mentioned in the books anyways), and I just wanted an excuse to write it. Harry got a dream sequence last time as well. Fair is fair. Plus, little Ron is too fun to keep inside my head. Can you just imagine that tiny British accent? GAH!


	18. Just Not Yet

**Author's Note: **Gah, sorry it took a while. I had it done, and needed to edit, but then had some very serious drama in my life which included an unfaithful boyfriend and rage beyond belief on my part. It was a good thing I had this finished already, because the Burrow would have probably been burned down before they even got there. However, the story will not change from it's current path, for my rage is contained enough now.

Anyways, this long and boring story isn't the one you all came here to read. I hope you enjoy this chapter! I think it's a bit longer than the others...

* * *

><p>Harry took a deep breath as he materialized in the kitchen of the Burrow. Fred let go of his upper arm, grinning slightly at his reaction no doubt. Harry hated Apparating. It was a bloody horrible way of travel. Quicker, but horrible.<p>

"Alright, mate?"

"Yes," Harry said, rubbing his chest. He wasn't physically hurt, but the sensation of being jammed through a narrow tube gave one the feeling of being suffocated. How his ribs never gave in to the pressure, he didn't know.

Another _crack! _resounded and Ron appeared, clutching at George's shoulder. He let go and breathed a sigh of relief. Several more loud noises peppered the air, and soon the kitchen was full of bustling redheads and Harry. He felt oddly out of place. A dot of black in a sea of orange.

"I s'pose we should drag these up to my room then," Ron said over the murmur of conversation, tugging his trunk along the carpet. His eyes met Harry's in what he thought was a less-than-innocent look. A look that Harry was quickly beginning to recognize. The way Ron's sapphire gaze flitted down to land on his lips gave him away.

Harry smirked, following suit and dragging his trunk towards the stairs.

The endless staircases of the Burrow made Harry realize why the Weasley boys (and Ginny) were all so thin. The first floor hadn't been so bad, even if his trunk caught on every bloody step no matter what he did. They said goodbye to Ginny as she struggled along the hall to her own bedroom. But then, after heaving the monstrosity upward for two more levels, he began to feel tired and a bit too warm. Sweat dampened his hair ever-so-slightly. He dreaded every turn, for around the corner would simply be another flight to go up. He now felt envious of Ginny, for she clearly had it easier than any of the other brothers. Well, actually, they probably just levitated them since they were all of age and outside Hogwarts. Why hadn't Ron asked someone else to simply transport their luggage up by magic?

But finally, gasping for air, they came to the landing at the very top where Ron's room was located. The Chudley Cannons flag on the door greeted him like some sort of merciful beacon.

Ron threw the door open, the flag swinging wildly, and they heaved their trunks inside.

"Never doing that again," Ron said, panting and shaking his head.

Harry laughed breathlessly, setting his trunk against the wall. He would deal with it later.

Ron collapsed on his bed with a huff, landing on his stomach, his trunk abandoned on the floor. He fiddled with the orange blanket idly by his face. It looked like he was perhaps reacquainting himself with the surroundings after being gone for a few months. Harry wondered what it would be like, to miss being home.

He supposed it was similar to missing being safe at the Burrow. The warmth and comfort that seemed to be imbedded in the woodwork. The lack of a threat to being punched every time you turned a corner. The feeling that you were somehow welcome, and not regarded as an unfortunate addition to a family that didn't even want you there. This was what a home really was. Well, he assumed, anyways.

And he was here for two whole weeks.

Unable to help himself, he grinned and collapsed on top of Ron, draping himself sideways over the other boy's arse. Ron wheezed with the added weight, but laughed nonetheless. Harry already didn't want to leave, and he had just arrived.

But Ron's earlier not-so-innocent intentions were remembered as Harry felt the redhead struggling to turn around. He somehow managed, and Harry was enjoying watching him flounder about while offering little in the ways of accommodation. His body lay heavy against the long legs, making his movements difficult. Ron then growled in a half-hearted form of irritation and seized Harry's upper arms to drag him awkwardly around. Harry laughed, letting himself be manhandled, and then finally moved to crawl into a more comfortable position. He decided Ron had suffered enough exertion for one day.

Well, perhaps not. Harry sat atop him, legs on either side, and looked down at those bright blues.

The atmosphere seemed to change instantly once he realized the placement of both of their groins, and how very close they were to each other. Ron leaned up, pulling on the front of Harry's shirt a bit to encourage him to come closer. Harry took the hint and kissed him, feeling a tongue work almost instantly into his mouth. He moved forward, guiding Ron so that he would lay back on the bed again, taking the initiative this time.

He nibbled on Ron's lower lip a bit, something he learned to make things move a little faster, and heard a noise of lusty approval. Harry sucked it between his own, letting up with his teeth for the more raunchy approach, and felt the boy beneath him twitch. Something was definitely happening between Ron's legs, and it was something Harry was becoming increasingly familiar with. He continued to attack the bottom lip while fingers threaded through his black hair, tugging it slightly the way he liked.

Harry grunted, feeling Ron's hips thrust up, turning this into more than a simple snogging.

Harry ran his hands up Ron's sides, pushing the shirt up slightly to feel his warm skin. The smooth planes of his lower back were muscular, and the higher up his hands wandered, the more muscle became defined. He pushed them up underneath the shirt in the back and felt broad shoulders. They were larger from use on the Quidditch pitch, providing such a contrast to Ron's former gangly self. As a seeker, Harry had to remain lithe and thin, which he seemed to do without trying anyways, while still maintaining enough leg and upper body strength to hold himself upright on a broom (sometimes with no hands). Being less bulky helped him stay more aerodynamic. Faster, easily able to weave between the other players, and less likely to attract the attention of Bludgers. But he had never been more thankful of Ron's position on the team than he was now, feeling those strong arms and generous abdominals, built from hours of catching the Quaffle and tensing to keep it from getting to the goal posts. Ron's biceps made him shiver as his fingers skimmed over them. Tight, warm, and fucking sexy as hell. That was Ron's body.

"You're so hot when you get all bothered like that," Ron groaned, closing his eyes.

Harry realized that his face felt warm and his breathing was a bit ragged. He had been completely feeling Ron up for a while now, not even saying anything to break the silence. Ron just lay there and let him get on with it, apparently not perturbed by the lack of conversation or even the pause in their snogging.

Harry leant down again to give his mouth something to do. He nipped at Ron's neck, hearing him moan slightly. Harry ground his hips downward, suddenly very aware of his painfully hard erection, and heard the other boy gasp beneath him as their cocks rubbed together through their jeans.

It seemed desperate humping was how they made up for the anticipation of the real thing. Harry felt his hips set a pace as his tongue played along Ron's jawline. He heard the desire in himself reflected by the gasping, moaning ginger beneath him. Ron's hips pushed up in sync with Harry's, succeeding in driving them both wild.

"Want me to suck you off?" Harry breathed against the skin of his neck. He grinned while he said it, knowing the answer already. He just knew Ron liked it when he said naughty things, despite the fact that every time he did, Harry blushed profusely. It made him happy, though, to make Ron gasp in surprise like that.

"Yes," Ron panted, and Harry felt the grip on his hair tighten as the redhead probably anticipated what was to come.

Or _who, _for that matter.

Harry reached between them and gave Ron's erection a firm squeeze, teasing him. Ron groaned, a bit louder this time, and pushed his hips up to no doubt maintain the friction. His strong hands clutched desperately at Harry's hair, and he felt a tongue once again shove into his mouth as he was pulled impossibly closer.

"Oi, Ronniekins! We're all going to the orch – "

Harry only had enough time to look up in horror, his tongue still twined with Ron's, as the door flew open. Ron's eyes widened too, obviously sensing what was happening about a second too late.

Immediately Harry sat up, looking at the doorway. Their mouths parted with an audible _smack_, which didn't really help break the deafening silence.

One of the twins, Harry had no idea, was standing there looking very pink in the cheeks. He was averting his eyes, but he had clearly seen already what had been transpiring.

Harry felt his stomach disappear and an intense wave of mortification swept through him. His face grew hotter, after already being flushed from arousal, and he fell back slightly to land on his arse, though still sitting atop the bed.

"George!" Ron snarled, looking mutinous. With surprising agility for someone who had been moaning breathlessly not moments ago, Ron bolted from the bed and seized the front of George's robes. He dragged him forward and slammed the door shut again, trapping them all inside.

He didn't say anything for a while, but stood in the middle of the room with his hands firmly on his hips. He was thinking of what to say. Ron was better at handling situations like this, of the awkward and problematic kind, so Harry simply took with sitting there looking completely embarrassed and wishing the bed would suddenly come to life and eat him. Then, he wouldn't have to admit to himself that one of the Weasley brothers had just witnessed him about to defile another.

However, the bed remained unfortunately lifeless, and George still stood there silently, partially facing the window. He now looked a cross between stunned and terrified, while still maintaining a powerful blush. Harry thought he could feel the heat emanating from his face, but that was perhaps his own embarrassment making itself known.

"Okay," Ron said, breathing rather unevenly. "I realize this wasn't what you were expecting to be going on, so I'm not going to murder you yet."

George looked at him, incredulity now his choice of facial expression.

"However," Ron added, narrowing his eyes, "If you tell mum and dad, I will abandon my wand and cheerfully beat you to death."

"Wait, what the bloody hell is going on?" George said loudly, apparently finding his voice.

"I think it's a bit obvious," Ron replied flatly.

"Yeah, but – I mean – you and Harry were just – when did – oh my god! I'm blind!" He settled with, clutching at his eyes.

Ron gave Harry and exasperated look, to which Harry laughed nervously. God, if Ron's parents found out before he had a chance to tell them, Harry would feel terrible. It was he, after all, who had been starting all of this. And it had been looking so promising, too…

However, all he could feel was humiliation at having been caught in such a compromising position, instead of disappointment at the ruining of his blow job.

"Look, George," Ron said, sounding a bit pleading. "I know it's all probably weird to take in, but you _can't _tell mum and dad, okay?"

George looked up at him curiously, removing his hands from his face.

"Why?"

"Because it's not your secret to tell," Ron said defensively.

"So…" George looked like he was debating on what he was about to say, almost as if he didn't even want to. "You're…er…"

"Gay. Yes," he replied bluntly.

George winced a bit. Apparently, hearing it out loud from his little brother was a bit of a challenge. He sighed, though, looking a bit less shocked than before.

"Why don't you want them to know?" he said, his voice taking on a wary tone.

"Just…not yet. I mean…I _will _say, just…not right now," Ron said hesitantly. "Plus, it should be me who tells them anyways, right?"

George nodded, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"So I can't tell Fred either, can I?"

"No," Ron said, his eyes widening in terror. "Not even Fred! You know how he is with gossip…"

"Yeah," George rubbed his face roughly, as if he were trying to scrub it clean. "Merlin, I hate keeping stuff from him though. He always knows."

"Just for a few days," Ron muttered, staring at the floor.

"Blimey…I didn't even…I mean, I never guessed that…you know," George finished awkwardly, without having really said anything at all. He ran a hand through his orange hair, and then dropped both arms at his sides.

"I know," Ron said lowly. Now he was turning pinkish, the strangeness no doubt getting to him.

Ron couldn't see, for he was still staring at George's knee, but Harry noticed that the twin looked a bit uncomfortable. He opened his mouth a few times, apparently trying to figure out what to say, but then he would close it again. Finally, he spoke in a tentative voice.

"Are…er…are _you _okay and everything?" he looked worried.

"What do you mean?" Ron looked up, confused.

"Well, I mean, you're not, you know," he sighed, shoving a hand in his pocket. "If you need someone to talk to…or something…"

The ghost of a smile played along Ron's lips as he looked at his brother. Clearly, it was a very large step for George to be offering any advice, none of which would probably be useful in a situation like this anyways…But the gesture was what counted, Harry could see.

"I'm okay," Ron said, looking away again. "I've pretty much worked it out by now."

"Right…" George said slowly, looking in a different direction. His gaze then felt reluctantly on Harry. He seemed to be having a difficult time maintain eye contact. "And, er, you're good too, right?"

Harry nodded, unable to say anything that wouldn't come out sounding stupid.

"What d'you think mum and dad will say?" Ron said. Harry could hear the badly disguised fear in his voice. He meant it to sound casual, but the obvious worry at what their reaction would be had worked itself in nonetheless.

"I think they'll be okay," George said firmly. "I mean, it's not like they care about anybody's opinion outside of the family anyways. Our reputation can't get any worse what with dad's muggle fascination."

Ron nodded solemnly.

"Plus…" George sounded hesitant again, as though he were speaking carefully. "It's not…you know…it's not anything to be ashamed about, Ron. I wouldn't worry about it."

George's words, though awkward in a clear sign of disuse, seemed to ease Ron's troubles at their reassuring nature. Perhaps the fact that his brother didn't think him any less of a person gave him a foreshadowing of the rest of the family's opinion. Harry didn't doubt they would accept it with grace, just like he always imagined they would. It just seemed like the Weasley family's nature to take care of their children no matter what. Harry did realize, however, that it was easier for _him_ to view this as an outsider than as an actual member of the family. He for one knew what it was like to be ridiculed and singled out by your own flesh and blood, and he certainly wouldn't wish it on anyone else. Ron had much more to lose than Harry did if this went badly.

"Just tell them when you're ready, yeah?" the twin said, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder hesitantly. He squeezed briefly and then let go again.

"Okay," Ron said, looking as though he felt better.

"And as for anyone else," George said, grinning mischievously. "Bollocks to them and do what you want. That's what me and Freddy do, and look where we are now!"

They all laughed, a bit of the tension evaporating with it. Harry had to admit he was a bit shocked. He had never seen either of the twins so…sibling-like before. Other than to each other, that is. Less teasing and more caring than usual. It was comforting, but a bit disorienting at the same time.

"Alright. I'll…er…tell the others you're unpacking," he said, chuckling slightly. He turned and left, hands shoved into his pockets.

George's footsteps sounded down the hall, and then the stairs, before either of them said anything.

"I'm sorry," Harry said suddenly, feeling ashamed that he couldn't keep his hands to himself for at least ten minutes.

"What?" Ron sounded bewildered.

"I shouldn't have…I mean, he wouldn't have found out if I didn't start on you so soon," Harry said, looking down. He felt weight on the bed as Ron sat next to him.

"Harry, it obviously wasn't your fault," he said exasperatedly.

"But if he tells – "

"He won't tell," he assured. Harry raised an eyebrow, and Ron sighed. "Well, okay, he might. But he didn't sound like he would. And if he does, so what?"

"I dunno," Harry replied, looking out the window solemnly. "If they find out from someone else, wouldn't that be weird?"

"Yeah, but all that matters is that I'm with you."

Harry looked over at him, smiling slightly. Ron's blue eyes were wide and focused only on him. It looked as if he were trying to say something more, to communicate without words how important it was that Harry understand. He nodded and looked away, feeling a different kind of warmth engulf him now, spreading pleasantly through his middle and reaching to his fingers and toes. It was such a nice thing for Ron to say. Harry couldn't help feel that he almost didn't deserve it.

"I just don't want you to worry about it. If you don't want to tell them, I get it," Harry said, looking over at him.

"I do want to," Ron replied. He sounded nervous though, as if he were having second thoughts.

Harry reached over and took his hand, feeling free to do so since they were alone. It was rather nice, being able to thread their fingers together without having to worry about anyone seeing. This wasn't in the middle of the hall at Hogwarts, where anyone could turn the corner and make them pull away from each other hastily. They were in a room, simply talking, and being all couple-like and understanding with each other. Harry was completely lost as to what the hell he was doing, of course, but lost in a pleasant way.

He looked down at Ron's hand, fingers placed loosely between each of his own. He had never properly looked at them, he realized. They had always been too embarrassed to hold hands for too long, or said hands were busy being put to use. Ron had callouses and scars on his hands, something that came with his position on the pitch, but Harry quite liked the feel of them against his skin. They were solid and strong, firm from gripping his broom and catching the Quaffle, but with slender fingers that were slightly longer than average. They were always gentle when they touched him, despite their rough texture. Plus, those long fingers were perfect for the wicked tasks they were often put to. Harry's breath faltered at the mere recollection.

He looked up to see Ron looking pensively out the window. A slight crease had formed between his eyebrows, showing his obvious worry.

"It'll be okay," Harry said reassuringly, squeezing his hand briefly. Ron nodded, biting his lower lip.

"I know."

"Are you worried?"

"Not anymore. At least George will learn to knock now," Ron said, laughing and placing a kiss to Harry's cheek.

* * *

><p>"Yeah, right there…"<p>

"Fuck, this is amazing. Like that?"

"Yeah…wait, not so hard."

"Sorry."

"Ouch!"

"Sorry!"

Ron's eyes widened in horror as Harry sucked on his bleeding thumb.

"Have you never used scissors before?" Harry asked, amused. His question was slightly muffled by the addition of his thumb, however.

"I'm sorry!" Ron whined, placing them on the floor where he could do no more harm.

"It's okay," Harry assured, returning his attention to the present he was currently wrapping.

"I'm so used to doing it with magic," Ron complained. He was still looking at Harry with worry, which was quite unnecessary in Harry's opinion.

"I'm _fine_," Harry said exasperatedly. He tapped his own forehead, grinning, indicating that he had clearly survived worse things. A pair of scissors paled in comparison to a killing curse.

"Right," Ron said sheepishly, looking away.

They were attempting to wrap the large amount of presents they had brought back from Hogsmeade, most of which were Harry's to other members of Ron's family, and it was certainly not without effort. Harry was technically as inexperienced as Ron. Before, he had never had any presents to wrap for Christmas, an unfortunate result of living with the Dursleys, so naturally he had no idea what the hell he was doing. Ron was used to using charms to do the work for him at Hogwarts. However, both of them had put it off until this very moment, and now were paying the price. Neither of them could use magic at the Burrow or had any prior experience to draw from.

However, with all the hard work they were putting into the presents, it gave Harry a warmer sense of accomplishment. Even if the things looked bloody horrible.

Ron gingerly picked up the scissor again as Harry held out the ribbon for him to cut. He successfully avoided Harry's fingers, to which he was thankful for. Harry took the ribbon and tied it as elegantly as he could around the dark red parcel paper, which was currently concealing a necklace with a fang on it to match Bill's earring. Harry thought it would be funny.

He looked on with satisfaction. This one didn't look quite so bad compared to the others, even if the bow on top was a bit lopsided.

"Are we done with yours yet?" Ron sighed, looking over at his own abandoned pile of still-unwrapped presents.

"Six to go," Harry said, ignoring Ron's louder sigh in response.

"Who's this one for, then?" Ron said, brandishing at the newly wrapped present.

Harry looked up, his quill poised over a tag that he was about to scribble the name onto anyways. He grinned when he saw that it was the biggest one.

"It's yours," he said simply, scribbling Ron's name onto the parchment.

"What?" Ron said, complaint evident in his voice. "You were supposed to tell me before we wrapped it so I could get a good look and feel out what it is!"

"And _you're _meant to _not _be doing that," Harry glared, adding the present to the 'finished' pile. He set it down gingerly to not let him hear any clues. He was protecting this one with his bloody life if he had to.

They continued on, Ron grumbling still about Harry and his elusiveness. Half an hour passed, each present getting progressively more acceptable-looking, and finally they were done. With Harry's gifts, that is.

"What color?" Harry asked, pointing vaguely at the parcel paper rolls scattered throughout the room. The wooden floor was a bit cold to sit on, and Harry wished they weren't so terrible at this so that they could escape to the warmth of the sitting room downstairs.

"Red," Ron decided firmly. Harry reached for it and began cutting out a rectangle that looked like it might fit over the small box.

"What is it, anyway?" Harry said, nodding over to the box they were currently working on.

"A coin purse for Ginny," Ron shrugged, cutting out another gift tag carefully with the scissors. "She has one already, but I had no idea what else to bloody get her. I hope this one's better at least."

"I'll bet it's quite pretty," Harry said, laughing as Ron shoved his shoulder half-heartedly.

"The witch at the desk gave me a funny look. Did she honestly think I would use one with pink flowers on it?" Ron said incredulously. "It's _obviously _a gift."

"I dunno, maybe she saw us holding hands in the back," Harry chuckled.

They continued chatting casually and wrapping presents. Ron had actually managed to fold the paper in all the right places for the first time, and Harry could see the grin of pride that flashed across his face before he could hide it. Neither of them possessed Dean's artistic talent, so this was quite a step for them. Their success held till the very last present, and they beamed down at their handiwork when they were finished.

"Wow, did you do those all yourselves?" Charlie said, sounding impressed as they walked into the sitting room. Their arms were laden with numerous presents, Harry being careful not to drop any of the fragile ones.

"Good Merlin, what are all those for?" Fred added, pointing to Harry's arms. They were considerably fuller with varying shapes of boxes.

"You lot," Harry said. It should have been obvious. What, had he bought and wrapped them for himself?

Ron knelt awkwardly by the tree and dumped his all in one heap at the base of it. Harry placed the breakable ones down carefully before following suit.

They then collapsed on the sofa, feeling a lot more exhausted than they should be.

"Anyone wanna play chess?" Ron announced to the room. His head hung back over the back of the sofa, making his red hair stand on end. Harry swallowed thickly as his neck was completely exposed, looking oh-so-biteable.

No one answered his plea, and he sighed heavily. Harry tore his eyes away from the taunting expanse of flesh.

"Alright, I'll play," Bill said grudgingly, getting up from his seat on the floor. His long legs ended in Dragonhide boots, which were a dark red color and scaly looking. Charlie seemed to regard them with slight disdain. "You'll have to remind me of the bloody rules though. I haven't played in years."

George laughed and shook his head. "He doesn't stand a chance."

"Reckon not," Fred added.

"Where's your mum?" Harry asked Ron as he was digging for the battered chess set beside the couch. He had noticed that both parents were nowhere to be found, which was unusual. When Mrs. Weasley wasn't cooking or knitting in the corner, she was usually scolding one of her children.

"Dunno. S'pose she's with Gin or something," Ron shrugged, looking briefly around the room. "Probably _girl _time."

"Yeah, so now it's just us blokes," George said, grinning a bit too knowingly. "Who needs girls around anyways?"

Everyone chuckled, but Harry saw Ron shoot George a glare once they had all turned back to their own conversations.

He had finally unearthed the chess set, and Harry sat back to watch him explain the rules. They were all in for what was sure to be a very short game.

* * *

><p>Harry sighed contentedly.<p>

Everyone had watched the very sad defeat of Bill, which ended with him having only a knight and his king left before the inevitable checkmate. Harry knew Ron had been dragging it out, either in an attempt to fool with Bill, or to prolong the fun of the game. He had forgone several checkmates beforehand that even Harry had seen. By the end, the poor terrified white king had been surrounded and knocked to the board with a small _clank_.

Afterward, the boys had all turned in for the night, only having stayed up to watch the entertaining defeat. It was well into the night, and everyone was tired. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and they were in for a long day of relaxing, playing around, and eating copious amounts of Mrs. Weasley's cooking.

Now Harry lay in Ron's bed, which was small but cozy, shirtless and buried beneath covers. Ron's arm was slung over his middle, and he could feel the bare chest pressing against the skin of his back. There was a cot set up across the room for Harry to sleep in, but Mrs. Weasley didn't know yet about their newfound relationship, so he left it where it was. He did make Ron turn the lock on the door, though. He did _not _want a repeat of this afternoon.

It seemed as though Ron had fallen asleep, because the room was silent. He could feel the slow rise and fall of the chest pressed against him, the gentle breaths ghosting over the back of his neck. If Harry ever had to pick a place to remain for eternity, this would be it.

He felt a small wet lick on the skin of his neck, which tickled. Apparently his assumptions had been wrong. Harry's breath became a bit shallow as teeth soon followed, nipping affectionately and increasing in pressure each time along his skin. The small bites climbed higher, reaching his ear, where hot breath assaulted him and sent a shiver down his spine.

"What if somebody else comes up?" Harry worried.

"I locked the door," Ron murmured against his hair. Straight teeth nibbled on the shell of his ear.

"Yeah, but what if – "

"Shhh," Ron breathed, his arm pulling Harry closer. Fingers tangled in his black hair, pulling and exposing his neck a bit further.

Harry felt more kisses and small bites scattered across his skin, which made his breath hitch and his heart rate increase. He was aware of what they had been denied earlier, yanked away from them by George's intrusion. He could feel a rapidly increasing pressure in his trousers at the thought of continuing where they had left off.

Harry turned around to face Ron, both of them lying on their sides. He could see Ron clearly up close like this, despite the fact that his glasses lay abandoned on the nightstand. Ron's face was pale in the moonlight that shone through the window. The small freckles dusting his cheeks and nose stood out against the washed color, showing every one so clearly that he could count them if he wanted to. The smooth skin of his face contrasted with his hair, which was a darker red due to the faint light. His bright eyes shone more than ever though as they looked into his own green ones.

Harry leaned forward and kissed him, not wanting to understand why his stomach felt so uneasy. His throat was tight and his skin hot, but he knew it wasn't the prospect of fooling around that caused such a reaction in him. It was Ron's small smile, and the way he was gently rolling so that he was now straddling atop him. The way he was running his calloused hands up and down Harry's bare arms, leaning down to kiss him again, and the way he felt so warm and comforting. The way his lips were so soft, and his breath so even, and his tongue so hot in Harry's mouth.

"Do it," Harry breathed against his lips, clutching both hands in that thick red hair. He pushed his hips up to clarify his point.

Ron had both elbows on either side of Harry's face, using the bed to prop himself up. He merely continued to kiss him, exploring vigorously with his tongue. He groaned occasionally, biting Harry's lip, and Harry could feel the erection he had pressing into his own. Harry moaned softly when he moved on to nibble his ear again, pulling his hair slightly.

"Uhn, please," Harry begged at the ceiling. Ron was teasing him, running his hands along his exposed stomach, but always stopping right before he got to the edge of Harry's pyjamas. "I'm ready, please…"

"Not yet," Ron whispered, his tongue running along his jaw again.

"Why?" Harry said, disappointed. Panic flickered through him as he wondered if Ron didn't want to. If he was too nervous, or simply didn't want to go so far. But why was he so clearly hard now, and perfectly fine with doing everything else for that matter?

"I've been dreaming about your lips all day," Ron said, grinning against the skin of his neck. Harry chuckled, feeling another nibble where the smile had just been. He was relieved at the perfectly valid excuse. Ron _had_ been staring at his mouth a lot today…

"I suppose I did promise you," he said, feigning guilt. He stuck out his lower lip in a slight pout, which Ron caught between his teeth before he could put it back.

Harry reached between them and squeezed the obvious bulge in Ron's trousers. His breath hitched slightly, allowing Harry to free his lip and wiggle upwards, propping himself against the headboard.

Harry pulled on Ron's arms, urging him to come up too. He wasn't sure if this was going to work, but they were free to experiment, right?

Ron looked confused. Usually one of them was standing up or lying on their back whenever they did this. It took some guidance and arranging of Ron's limbs, but when Harry placed Ron's hands on the headboard and urged him to stand on his knees, placing his groin right in front of Harry's face, he seemed to understand.

"Like this?" he said, looking down at Harry in front of him. His blue eyes were wide in questioning innocence.

Harry nodded. "I'm gonna have you fuck me one way or another tonight," he said, grinning and blushing at the same time.

Something was wrong with him.

But Ron groaned and bit his lower lip, looking impossibly more randy than he had mere seconds ago.

"You shouldn't be allowed to say things like that," he said in a strangled voice, which made Harry laugh.

He reached up, a shadow cast over him by Ron's figure, and lowered Ron's pyjamas and boxers. A generous erection was revealed, looking quite needy and desperate for attention. So was its owner, by the sound of it.

"Fuck," Ron whispered as Harry leaned forward to suck lightly on the tip. He had to start somewhere.

Harry immediately moved his hand up between Ron's legs. Ron could never hold himself together whenever Harry touched the sensitive skin right behind his bollocks. He was able to stand his tongue well enough, but that magical little spot always had him moaning by the end. Harry rubbed his thumb against it and Ron exhaled shakily, resting his forehead against the wall in front of him.

"Uhn…yeah…" he breathed as Harry moved to take him deeper. Ron's hands clenched the headboard tightly.

Harry knew Ron was holding back, though. He was deliberately not thrusting forward, which he always seemed to resist, but Harry sort of liked it. He knew that probably meant there were some deep-rooted issues that needed sorting, probably something to do with his lack of parents, but it wasn't as though he were getting off by being tortured or something weird. Just a bit rougher treatment. So what if he enjoyed how Ron held him down forcefully, or liked feeling a cock deep in his throat? Wasn't that sort of a good thing? Ron knew what he liked, and didn't seem to have a problem with it when he finally let go of his hesitation a bit. But this was a bit new, he supposed, and Ron always seemed so careful not to hurt him. It was rather nice, actually, to have someone care so much. But now Harry wanted to play dirty again.

Harry placed his hands behind Ron's hips and pulled them forward, silently egging him on. He wanted Ron to take control, because it was always bloody amazing whenever he did. Ron groaned and Harry looked up, meeting his gaze. Ron's lower lip was getting a lot of abuse from his teeth tonight…

"Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth," he moaned, looking at Harry with fascination. His bright blue eyes were wide as they watched him, taking in the sight of his cock being eagerly sucked. He seemed lost.

Harry slid as far as he could down Ron's length, feeling his own hardness between his legs. He pushed Ron's hips forward again, and this time he took the hint.

"You want me to fuck your mouth?" he said, a slight growl working its way into his voice. It went straight to Harry's dick and he nodded slightly. It was considerably hard to do while also working along his erection, but he managed to pull it off.

A rough hand threaded into his wild hair at the back of his head. He grunted, feeling it pull him back so that he was against the wooden headboard, clutching in his black hair to keep him there. A strange thrill ran through him as he looked up at Ron's expression, which was hungry and all-too-eager for what he was being allowed to do. Unlimited access. What could be better?

Harry felt the head of Ron's cock push past his lips again, which opened willingly to accept it. Both of them moaned, Ron from the pleasure, Harry from the sensation of being taken in such a way.

He liked being dominated like this, despite the slight embarrassment he felt at admitting it to himself. Ron kept pushing, working deeper into his mouth, looking as though he were trying desperately to still hold back. Harry sucked hard, encouraging him. He wanted to see that control shoved out the window.

Ron grunted as he pulled back and thrust forward, one hand still on the headboard, the other tangled in Harry's hair. He began a slow pace. As Harry played his tongue along the underside of his erection, Ron moaned, dropping his forehead to the wall again, and began thrusting faster and harder. His cock slid in and out of Harry's mouth with increasing vigor, all worry seeming to dissipate. Harry heard him panting above, his breath occasionally coming out in a low keening noise when Harry swallowed. He was liking this, that was for certain.

Harry moved his hands up Ron's stomach, feeling the taught muscle there as he tensed with each movement. He slid them around to rest at the dip in Ron's back, right above his arse, where there was a place to hold on to. His skin was damp with sweat from exertion and arousal, making Harry's hands have to hold tighter to not lose his grip. He sucked roughly, breathing through his nose, trying to give as much as he could. If this was what Ron looked like when he was fucking, Harry could bloody well get used to it fast.

The desperate look on his face as he tried to keep his noises quiet. The way his body shone slightly in the moonlight due to its glistening surface. How his hair was ruffled from running his hands through it, or from Harry's fingers doing the same. He was still so innocent looking, with his freckles and pink cheeks, but the fact that he was thrusting into the mouth of another boy pinned against a wall was a bit less innocent than most…

Harry moaned slightly, unable to take it, and moved his hand between his own legs. He shoved into his trousers, taking his erection and firmly stroking himself. He whimpered, feeling completely aroused and wanting nothing more than to come. Ron's blue eyes looked down to see him wanking himself.

"Oh fuck," he breathed, closing them again. His breathing was harsh, and he began pushing the back of Harry's head, forcing him forward onto Ron's cock with each thrust.

Harry felt the need to gag, but deliberately relaxed his throat instead. He didn't want Ron to panic and stop, fearing he was going to suffocate or something. He had only just let go of his worries…

"Mph," Harry grunted, tensing. He gripped himself tighter, feeling the need to release building up in his midsection.

"Don't come yet," Ron said roughly, his eyes still closed.

Harry whined, but obliged. He let go of his own erection and placed his hand back on Ron's hip. Hopefully, his self-control would pay off.

He closed his eyes, feeling painfully hard, the sensations of a cock deep in his mouth too much for him to handle. Harry whimpered and moaned, sucking hard as his only way to keep himself busy and distract himself from his own desperate need. Ron groaned and tensed, his hips moving at a quicker pace and his hand tightening in his hair.

"I'm coming," Ron said breathlessly, his eyes shut tight.

That was all the warning Harry got before he heard Ron cry out softly and felt hot seed spilling down his used throat. Ron's hips shoved forward and his head dropped back, panting and moaning as quietly as he could while he came. Harry knew that if he was too loud, the others would hear, and it would be rather difficult to explain in the morning. Harry grunted, swallowing as much as he could, but a small bit escaped from the corner of his mouth and trailed down. Ron finally stilled and rested his forehead against the wall once more, his breath uneven and shaky.

Ron pulled out of his mouth and released his hair, sitting back on his bed across from Harry. He leaned back on his hands, looking dazed and quite pink in the cheeks.

"How do you manage to make me come harder every time we do this?" he said breathlessly, running a hand through his own red hair.

Harry laughed, feeling the heat in his own face from what had just transpired.

"Why didn't you want _me_ to come?" he asked suddenly, very aware of how hard he still was.

"I want to try something as well," he said, grinning.

"What?"

"I want to see you wank," he said simply, to which Harry almost choked on air.

"What? Why?" he said, looking wide-eyed at the other boy.

Ron shrugged. "You've seen me do it already."

"Well – I – but I can't!" Harry spluttered, knowing what he said to be true. Yes, he had seen Ron masturbating, but Ron hadn't _known_ he'd been watching. Well, actually, that made it sound worse.

"I've already sucked your cock, Harry. I don't think it can get any more personal than that…"

"But…I…" Harry squirmed, looking around.

"You don't have to, though," Ron said quietly, turning pink again.

Great. Now Harry was an arse and Ron was embarrassed.

Harry sighed, not wanting to be so hypocritical. He supposed that, since Ron were here, it couldn't be all horrible. It was just he felt he was on display for everyone to watch. But it was just Ron. And _he_ had went along with _Harry's_ request, after all…

"Alright," Harry said shakily. He supposed he had technically been doing it just moments ago anyways while Ron had been watching. But Ron had been focusing on other things, not solely Harry. "But you can't just sit and stare at me. I'll feel like I'm putting on some sort of show."

"Well, you are," Ron said, grinning sheepishly. "But I won't," he added hastily as Harry opened his mouth to retort.

Ron climbed over to Harry, who wondered what he was going to do. His cock hung thick and heavy between his legs, even when it was limp, before he absently pulled up his trousers again as he moved. Good lord, was that thing ever _not _huge?

Ron wiggled in behind Harry, leaning against the headboard and stretching long legs on either side of him. He pulled Harry back so that they were chest-to-front now, almost as if he were a pillow to lie against.

"Better?" Ron asked brightly, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder.

"Yes," Harry admitted. At least he couldn't see him watching, and feeling Ron so close didn't make him feel so alone. Plus, Ron probably had a good view over his shoulder anyways.

Ron nipped at his neck again and Harry felt strong arms wrap around his waist from behind.

He sighed, still feeling vulnerable, and raised his knees to plant his feet on the bed more firmly. His legs were splayed open slightly like this, which was how he usually did it. He reached down, but Ron's hands got there first and shoved his trousers down to reveal his hard-on free from any clothing.

"I want to see too," Ron muttered against his ear, biting it directly after.

Harry shivered and moved his hand down, taking hold of himself yet again this evening.

He grunted, feeling delicious friction that he had been denied twice today already. He closed his eyes and let his head lay back on Ron's shoulder. Harry could feel him sucking at his neck, the small noises adding to his arousal. His breath became heavy again as he started stroking slowly.

He sighed in relief, letting the sensation wash over him. The serenity that came with wanking was always nice, even if there _was _an audience now. Even if Ron's hand was better than his own, anything was welcome at this point. His poor cock had been neglected for too long…

"Uhn," Harry breathed, moving his hand steadily along his length. Ron's breath on his skin was warm and gentle, tickling him ever-so-slightly.

"Fuck, do you know how good you look like this?" Ron whispered, speaking into his shoulder. Harry felt his teeth follow the statement and grunted again.

He was already so hard from what they had been doing, from what Ron had been doing _to _him, that he knew it wasn't going to take long. Harry bit his lip and breathed out, his hips moving up almost automatically. He thrust upward into his hand, his stomach tensing with each push. His feet pressed against the bed to give him leverage.

Harry's breathing increased and he turned his head to the side.

"I can't wait until I fuck you tomorrow," Ron said in his ear. Harry groaned, recognizing that rough tone of voice. "Or maybe you want to fuck _me_? You seem to be showing your hand a good time."

"Oh," Harry whimpered, being assaulted with the images of Ron beneath him. He would moan and writhe, Harry's cock disappearing inside his arse with each thrust. Hot, tight, and his for the taking…

"You like that idea?" Ron said, nipping at his skin again. "I wouldn't mind. I like your cock and how it practically begs for me."

"Yeah," Harry breathed, thrusting up hard.

"Or do you want _me_ to fuck_ you_? So I can hear you moan properly. I don't think you've been as loud as you can be…"

"Mph, fuck me," Harry groaned, pressing his back tighter to Ron's chest. He pumped faster, lost to those filthy words and that husky voice…

"You want me to fuck you?" Ron asked, and Harry nodded, biting his lower lip to regain control of his voice. He couldn't be too loud. "You want me to shove my cock deep inside that tight little arse of yours? I like your arse, Harry…I know you know I do…imagine what it'll feel like when I'm pounding away at that little spot inside you…the one you like me to touch…"

Harry panted, closing his eyes. With a few more rough strokes, he was crying out and coming into his own hand. Ron turned his head and shoved his tongue in Harry's mouth, muffling his cries as he convulsed slightly, strong arms holding him tight around the middle. As his cum gushed over his fingers, Harry squeezed hard and slow, drawing out the sensation that made him weak in the knees and caused his spine to go tingly.

Finally, he released his spent cock and put all his weight on the body behind him, too tired to move just yet.

Ron trailed nibbles and kisses down his neck, muttering about how sexy he looked. Harry closed his eyes, smiling slightly, and reached back to feel the small curls at the base of Ron's neck. He gave a contented sigh, playing with the bright red hair, knowing that he would rather be here than anywhere else.


	19. Now

**Author's Note: **Okay. They seem to be getting longer each time I update, but's that's not bad, right? I mean, if you don't like reading, why would you be on here? Despite the fact that I have two college papers I should totally be writing, I wanted to post the next chapter because I'm nice. Don't say I never did nothin' for ya!

* * *

><p>Ron woke to a light ticking noise, which sounded oddly like a beak tapping on glass.<p>

"Hngrrrrghhhh," he managed, cracking his unwilling eyes open and revealing blue to the world. The insanely bright, should-be-illegal-to-be-this-early world. He tried to roll and see what the infernal noise was, but found his movements inhibited.

Something solid was laying against his chest. Or someone. Further inspection found it to be Harry Potter, slumped against him and looking fucking adorable like always.

Ron grimaced as he saw Harry's limp cock was still out of his pyjama bottoms. They hadn't cleaned up the results of his extremely hot, self-induced orgasm, which meant that the raven-head was in for an unpleasant surprise when he woke up. That couldn't feel good.

He sighed contentedly as he remembered last night. Harry wanking in front of him made the other boy look, if possible, more attractive than before. Though, Ron had to admit, the way Harry writhed and moaned at his touch made him feel like he accomplished a bit more, instead of Harry doing it for himself. It had been an experiment, however. He had just wanted to see his boyfriend wank. Was that so much to ask?

Before that, though, had been magnificent. Hell. Just the thought of what Harry had wanted him to do, how he had thrust into that willing mouth, made him shiver. Harry's throat was a beautiful thing.

But not as beautiful as his arse, of course.

Easing himself up, he shook Harry's shoulder lightly and kissed his neck to try and rouse him.

"Harry. Wake up. You're covered in spunk."

"Mph…what?"

"Er…probably don't want to move that much."

Ron sat up slowly, bringing Harry with him who was still groggy and looked confused. He laughed, seeing those green eyes squinting in the light from the snow outside. Ron wiggled out from behind him and stood so that Harry could get up too. The wooden floor was always bloody cold in the morning, though, which he was not currently appreciating. Neither were his bare feet.

"Oh, no," Harry whined, looking down at his own stomach. Apparently he had just registered what Ron had told him.

"It's fine," Ron waved his hand dismissively. "We must've fallen asleep fast after your little _show_."

Harry glared up at him tiredly, his hair a complete state. Ron laughed and kissed his button nose, then offered a hand to pull him up.

"I'm gonna go take a shower," Harry sighed, wandering toward the door. He held his arms stiffly, away from his middle.

"Alright. You look adorable though," he called as Harry shuffled out the door, to which he heard a chuckle.

Sighing, Ron turned and placed his hands on his hips, observing his room. What was he to do while Harry was gone? He supposed he could sleep some more. That was always a welcome idea…

As he inched over to his bed again, the covers looking wonderfully inviting, Ron looked absently out the window to see how much snow had fallen since yesterday. His eyes widened as he saw the source of what had woken him up in the first place.

"Oh, Pig!" he exclaimed, rushing over to throw open the pane.

The poor bird looked miserable. He had clearly been waiting to be noticed, a sad expression on his little owley face. His eyes were wide as usual, but probably more so due to the cold. His feathers were soaked all over his body, most likely from the falling snow in the night, and it made him look even smaller than usual. He picked up the nearly-frozen thing and shut the window again.

"Sorry, mate," Ron said sincerely, holding the poor thing to his chest for warmth. He fit in one hand easily, so it wouldn't take long to bring him back to the living.

He should have known better, really, than to send Pig out while it was so cold. He could have waited a day to send Hermione's present instead of directly after they had wrapped it. But he had wanted Pig to be home for Christmas in the warm house, enjoying a little vacation of his own and perhaps indulging on treats like the rest of them. Plus, it could have very well snowed tonight too, making his holiday even more miserable. Ron knew that owls probably didn't even register when it was Christmas, but he liked to have the whole family together on the day anyways, even if his excuse did sound mad. Pig was part of the family. All of their pets were.

"If it makes you feel any better, I feel terrible," Ron said sheepishly. Pigwidgeon hooted indignantly, but Ron thought he heard a tone of forgiveness in there too.

God, he _was_ mad if he was beginning to decipher owl noises.

"Oi, Ron!" bellowed the sandy voice of one of the twins. He heard thundering footsteps and soon his door was swung open further, despite it being quite open already. It banged against the wall noisily, causing him to jump and clutch Pig closer to his chest in defense.

"Bloody hell Fred, I'm not deaf," he said, rolling his eyes.

Fred shrugged, sparing Pigwidgeon a glance before continuing with his current mission.

"Mum says breakfast's ready. Aren't you freezing?" he said, nodding towards Ron's bare chest.

"A bit."

"Why are you half naked then?"

"I always sleep like this," Ron lied, bringing up another hand to cup Pigwidgeon and in turn shield his body from the scrutiny of his brother's eyes. He couldn't bloody well tell the truth, which was that he slept half-naked because he had a nice, equally-half-naked body to cuddle up to in the night.

"Alright then." (Ron breathed a sigh of relief) "Mum says to come down before we eat everything first. She says Harry looks too thin again," Fred added, shaking his head. Ron laughed.

"We will. Harry's in the shower, so I reckon we'll be down soon."

"Okay."

Fred turned to leave, placing a hand on the doorframe in order to swing through it. He hesitated mid-swing, however, and then turned to face Ron again, looking deep in thought. Ron swallowed nervously, hoping he hadn't said anything incriminating.

"Does George…did anything happen between you two yesterday?" Fred asked slowly, as if he weren't sure what to say.

Ron felt panic lace his thoughts at this. Merlin, George was right. Fred knew he was keeping something. Damn twins and their ability to read each other…

"No, why?" he said as innocently as he could.

"He seems different or something. Like, nervous."

"Maybe it's being back home," Ron pointed out hopefully. "You two have been away a while. You know how he gets when things change round."

"Yeah, I guess. See you later."

And then he left, leaving Ron thoroughly worried.

If Fred forced the answer out of George, he wouldn't be able to trust Fred not to go blabbing. He would either have to erase Fred's memory, or let the entire family find out through him. Ron didn't really want it to happen that way. _He_ wanted to tell them, no matter how terrified he was of their reaction.

George had been a pleasant surprise, of course. He hadn't expected such comfort from his brothers, much less the twins. He had expected a joke from them if his homosexuality were accepted, or blatant disgust if it weren't. Not this caring, 'I wouldn't worry about it' nature George had displayed. Now, he didn't know what the hell to expect. How would the rest of the family react?

Harry interrupted his thoughts by inching into the room sopping wet and wearing nothing but a towel, saying sheepishly that he had forgotten to bring clothes to change into. Ron had thrown him down so fast that Harry was probably in danger of whiplash.

After a not-so-brief snog, as well as showering and changing for himself, Ron led their way down to the kitchen, with Pigwidgeon zooming around their heads excitedly all the way down the stairs. He was warm and dry now, and clearly back to his old hyper-active self. A small tennis-ball shaped cluster of feathers that was a blur as it flitted about wildly.

"Do you reckon we should tell them now?" Ron asked quietly. He had been avoiding asking the question, for fear that Harry would actually say yes. Pig's incessant hooting was a good cover for their conversation, drowning out their words and hiding them from unwanted ears.

"If you want," Harry said casually, shrugging. Ron wished he could be so easy-going about it.

"I dunno. Maybe we should wait after Christmas," Ron said, feeling the panic slowly rising the farther down they went. He was nervous about Fred's suspicions, and didn't know if he could trust George to stand up to him. But part of him was debating keeping it a secret till his grave. He couldn't bear his parents' disappointment, even if he _did _know that he would still see Harry if they didn't approve.

"I thought you wanted to do it before Christmas?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," Ron hesitated, looking down at his feet.

"I'll be there too, you know," Harry said quietly. "Plus, I really think they won't mind, Ron. Like George said."

It was true. George had said that he thought their parents would take it well. Hell, he out of all of them would know. Of all their brothers, the twins had been the ones who had put their mother through the works the most. Their rebellious childhood, causing her to chase them around constantly to keep them in check. Their school career, when the low number of O.W.L.s they received caused her bellowing to shake the house. The _end_ of their school career, when Ron actually thought her head would explode from the fury of finding out about their grand exit. Their lack of prefect status, lack of respect for authority, and lack of boundaries when it came to pranking had given her several excuses to either disown them or murder them in the heat of an argument. Yet she still loved them, no matter how much hell they had put her through. And dad as well.

Feeling a bit stronger in the face of Fred and George's discretions, Ron nodded firmly and Harry smiled. His cute nose crinkled as he did, giving Ron the last bit of courage he needed. If he had that smile to get him through this, then that was all he needed.

They entered the kitchen, but he didn't really feel very hungry anymore.

When Harry sat down next to him and immediately grabbed several sausages, the conversation started up merrily, making Ron feel like some sort of outsider. He sat quietly, picking at one of the sausages Harry had put on his plate for him. The place where his stomach should have been felt hollow. How could one eat when they didn't have a stomach?

"Now, then?" Harry muttered, probably trying to be encouraging.

"Yeah. Before I throw up," Ron replied. His sense of resolve had evaporated fairly quickly, it seemed. But he had to do this. They had to know, and from him, not George.

He felt Harry put a hand on his knee under the table, which made him feel a bit better. His mother and father sat across from him, and his brothers were spread along the table at odd points. George was on Ron's other side, looking as though he were trying to act casual. No wonder Fred suspected something. He _was _acting weird, but perhaps because he was sitting next to both of them and knew their secret. It had taken Seamus a while too, after all.

With a shaky voice, he waited for a pause in the conversation and then spoke.

"Erm…I er…I have something to say," he said, sounding a lot less cool than he wanted to.

"What is it, dear?" his mother said, looking concerned. She probably sensed his nerves, which she was trained to do by years of children hiding secrets from her. Mainly Fred and George. However, her tone wasn't so accusing as it was when directed at the twins.

He felt his jaw lock up and was unable to speak. Everyone was staring at him. A cluster of brown and blue eyes all fixated on him, with one pair of green thrown in for good measure, the noise in the room dying down until the silence was deafening. He never made announcements like this, so naturally they were curious. He usually stuck to the background, not wanting to draw the attention of his older brothers…

"Ron?" his father said, eyebrows drawing together.

Harry's hand squeezed his leg, egging him on.

"Er…never mind," he said quickly, feeling his face heat up.

"Oh for – Ron, just say it," George said exasperatedly. He must have worked out what was going on already. Harry nodded, agreeing with George's statement.

"Alright," Ron said, sighing. It was no use trying to back out now anyways. Everyone clearly knew something was up. "I'm…er…okay," he shook his head and started again, trying to be more coherent. "Recently, I've been feeling quite…different…"

Everyone gave him a blank look, so he continued.

"I've been noticing that…er…that I don't feel quite the same way about…about girls. You know...Like the rest of you," he said tediously. "Like…I find it more interesting to be with… with boys. Rather than girls."

More blank staring.

"I'm gay," he said bluntly. "I like blokes."

A careful silence greeted his words, and it was becoming quite uncomfortable. He had said it. He had spelled it out for them. So why weren't they saying anything? Did this mean that everyone was going to hate him now? Or did it mean that they were just shocked? How long would he have to wait to find out? This was a horrible idea. Why had he let anyone encourage him to do this?

"Mum?" George said, raising an eyebrow. Her eyes were wide in surprise, but Ron couldn't see any anger or disgust yet.

She looked at their father, as if asking a question. He shrugged back at her, looking as confused and surprised as she did.

"Wait, Ron's gay?" Bill said down the table, sounding immensely confused. "When the bloody hell did that happen?"

"I don't know. Dear?" his mother said, looking at him questioningly.

"About a month ago," Ron said sheepishly, fiddling with his fork. No one was yelling so far, so that was a good sign.

"Well…that's…I mean, whatever makes you happy, son," his father said, leaning back in his chair. He rubbed at his slightly wrinkled forehead slowly.

"Yes, of course," his mother followed, her voice sounding more firm now. Ron supposed it would have taken them a minute to get over the initial shock…

"I thought you were seeing that Hermione?" Bill said, leaning forward to get a look at him.

"What? No!" Ron said incredulously. "Why would you think that?"

"Er…no reason, I guess," Bill finished, sounding confused.

"So…you're really…?" Ginny said quietly.

Ron felt the pit of his stomach disappear again. He had forgotten she was here. She didn't sound angry, though…yet.

"Yes. And…er…that's not all," Ron sighed, rubbing his face to try and clear his nerves. He sat up and looked around, biting his lower lip. "I'm…er…I'm seeing…"

He gestured next to him, where Harry was sitting. Harry's cheeks turned slightly pink, but he held his head up nonetheless.

"Oh my god," someone said. Ron couldn't tell, because he was looking down at his plate.

"_Harry?"_

"Yes," he muttered.

He heard Harry sigh next to him and scoot closer, confirming it for everyone. Their legs were touching beneath the table and Harry's hand tightened on his thigh again. He looked up, and Harry smiled awkwardly, shrugging as if to say 'oh well'. Ron fought the mad urge to laugh at this.

"So you and Harry are…together, then?" Ginny said, sounding hollow.

Ron nodded and ran a hand though his own hair, not feeling quite as cocky and proud as he had on the train yesterday. The disappointment in her eyes was hard to see, even if he knew she could never have him anyways. Harry liked blokes too, whether she accepted that or not. But after all, she _was_ his sister. It seemed almost like a betrayal to her.

But he was happy, and he wouldn't give that up for anyone. For once, he had something that was completely his, and no one was going to take Harry away from him.

"Oh, come on," George said to the rest of the table, which was still looking quite shocked. "I mean, it's a surprise, yeah, but there's no need to make it worse on them."

"You seem quite _un_surprised by all this," Fred said, his eyes narrowing at his twin.

"Well, yeah," George blushed immediately. "I, er, I knew since yesterday."

"Why did you tell him first?" Fred asked indignantly, turning to Ron. He gestured at George with a flailing hand.

"I didn't," Ron said flatly.

"Then how did he find – ? Oh…"

Ron looked up at the ceiling, wishing it would cave in from the snow and crush him to death. This conversation was taking a bad turn, and with his family, it could only get worse.

"Ronald…have you two been…intimate?" his mother asked gently.

"Mum!" Ron wailed, burying his face in his hands. All of his brothers laughed, causing his cheeks to heat up quickly. Well, at least they weren't angry…

Harry remained fairly silent too, but patted his arm reassuringly.

"You're right," she said quickly, clearing her throat. "Another time, perhaps…"

His dad got up to clear his empty plate, and Ron thought for one wild moment that he was leaving. Was he upset that his youngest son was gay? Was he walking out in a huff of anger and resentment?

But no, he returned to his seat as the laughter died down, and Ron breathed a mental sigh of relief.

"So…" Ron said tentatively, looking around the table once more for any negative reactions. Ginny was silent, but everyone else was recovering from their laughter, which seemed to be a good sign. "You're not…you know…angry, or anything?"

"Why would I be, sweetheart?" his mother said, looking puzzled.

His blush remained strong as he looked down at the table.

"Well, I dunno…it's just not something anyone's ever talked about and I…I wasn't sure how you all would…you know…" he fiddled with his napkin to avoid looking at anyone in particular.

"Oh, Ronald," she said, half-sympathetic and half-exasperated. He looked up to see her eyes twinkling slightly.

"Son, it's nothing to be ashamed about," his dad said firmly.

George gave an 'I-told-you-so' look, to which Ron chuckled.

He was feeling elated. The burden of telling his family everything, and of them accepting it all without complaint, was quite freeing. As he nodded in answer, smiling sheepishly, he felt his stomach return to his body. Even Ginny's silence wasn't enough to bring him down. He would hopefully work it out with her later, if she didn't hate him too much.

"Well, enough of that," his mother said, standing and beginning to bustle about the kitchen like her usual self. "Would you like more eggs, Harry?"

"Yes please."

And at that, breakfast continued. Ron blinked confusedly, looking around at the gallant laughter and joyful chatting. It had returned to normal so fast. Just like always, with them gathered in the kitchen as a family, perfectly happy in each other's' company. Even Pigwidgeon seemed content, settled on the table next to Ron's juice as he hooted lightly to make sure he was still acknowledged. Ron poked a piece of sausage into his beak, which managed to keep him quiet briefly.

"So, is that it, then?" Harry asked, speaking only so Ron could hear.

He nodded, grinning.

"I guess so."

* * *

><p>After breakfast, all the boys had decided to go down to the orchard and have a game of makeshift Quidditch in the snow, since Harry and Ron had been 'unpacking' for the last one. Fred and George were rubbish at being Chasers, since all they really knew how to do was hit Bludgers, but nonetheless they agreed to it.<p>

However, their broomsticks lay abandoned by the trees as the snowballs flew wildly.

"Harry, look out!" Charlie shouted, pointing.

Harry only had time to turn as a snowball collided with the side of his face, to which Ron laughed hysterically. He held his hands up in defense as Harry advanced, arm drawn back to strike with his own retaliation no doubt.

"Oi, oi, I was aiming for Fred," he said, backing up and grinning sheepishly.

"Liar," Harry replied, smirking.

Ron didn't stick around to find out how bad the consequences would be. He turned and bolted, laughing breathlessly as he ran. He dodged the snowballs and tried to weave between his brothers quickly, Harry hot on his heels. He was faster, Ron couldn't outrun him. Curse Harry for being so thin and lithe…

"Argh!" Ron shouted as he was tackled mercilessly. A pair of arms wrapped around his waist and flung him to the ground into the snow, which was deep enough to where it didn't hurt thankfully. He heard laughter mixed with his own as he struggled against his assailant, blinded by whiteness all around them.

Finally, he managed to pin the body beneath him and get a good look at his face. Harry's cheeks were flushed from the cold and the chase, and his delicate nose was pink on the tip. Those wide green eyes stared up at him, and his pearly white teeth were revealed in a dazzling smile amongst his laughter. Small gusts of mist escaped him with his heavy breath, puffing up into the wintery air. Harry's black hair stood out remarkably against the white snow as well, sticking up every which-way in that freshly-fucked look.

He was bloody gorgeous.

Without caring, and knowing that his secret was out, Ron leaned down and claimed that mouth, which was so warm despite the cold surrounding them. He was still pinning Harry's arms to the ground, preventing any thoughts of escape, but it didn't seem that Harry was harboring any of those anyways.

With a laugh, Ron pulled back, hearing catcalls in the distance.

"Looks like they finally believe you," Harry said, grinning.

Ron stood up and offered his hand, which Harry took to aid in his struggling to his feet. When they rejoined the group, everyone was panting and standing around, the fight apparently over.

"Man, I dunno if I can get used to that," Bill said, shaking his head at them. Ron raised an eyebrow and Bill gestured at their joined hands. "It's just so strange. I never would have guessed _that _one."

"Yeah, well, you didn't walk in on them snogging," George said, sounding unnerved. "Almost thought I'd gone mental."

As they laughed, Ron felt his face heat up and he looked away. Fred proceeded to deck Bill with a rather forceful snowball, causing another chase to start this time. Perhaps it was a bit less playful than Harry and Ron's, though, since Bill was swearing a lot.

"Mental," Charlie said, chuckling and turning to George. "So, you like spying on boys kissing, is that right?"

"Ha ha," George sneered, crossing his arms.

Ron felt rather grateful at Charlie's defense. Laughing, he heard shouts and looked down the field. Off in the distance, he could see Bill shoving Fred's face into a mound of snow, laughing and telling him to quit fooling around and fight back already. George sighed dramatically and walked over to aid his twin, looking a bit foreboding about getting on Bill's bad side.

The three of them watched idly as George grabbed him from behind, giving Fred enough time to recover. Bill stood and flailed around, trying to battle two identical redheads at once. George was soon thrown off, and the three began wrestling to try and gain the upper hand.

"Where's your scarf?" Ron asked, noticing Harry's neck was exposed to the cold now.

Harry felt around to find it missing, and then looked around at his feet.

"Must have fallen off back there," he muttered. Harry began jogging back to the point where Ron had been tackled before he could offer to go and retrieve it for him. There was a huge gouge in the snow from where they had landed, so it could take some digging...

"So, you're not…you know. What mum said?" Charlie added awkwardly, causing Ron to be distracted.

"What?"

"Are you and Harry…er…'intimate', like mum asked?" he said, shoving his hands in his pockets yet maintaining eye contact. Ron stared back incredulously, not believing his ears.

Was his brother asking him about gay sex? Great…

"Er…sort of," Ron said awkwardly, not wanting to talk about this at all.

"Well…I'm just making sure you don't need…you know…help or something…" he looked increasingly uncomfortable now. Which, he should be, considering what he was offering.

"Er, no, I got it thanks," Ron said, feeling perturbed. "I don't really think it's the same, you know."

"Why wouldn't it be?" Charlie asked, looking confused.

"Well…er…with boys…they don't have a va – "

"Ron, you're not the only one in the family, you know," Charlie said over him loudly.

"I – w-what?" Ron whimpered, wondering if he had interpreted that right.

Charlie nodded grimly. "I er…I am too."

"Oh my god," Ron said, running a hand through his hair.

So Charlie was gay too.

He supposed it made a bit of sense. Charlie hadn't ever dated anybody during Hogwarts, from what Ron could remember, and he never brought a girl home for Christmas before like Bill had. Come to think of it, he never even talked about girls. All it seemed there was in his life was dragons. Ron had just thought he was really dedicated to his work…

"Why didn't you tell mum and dad?" Ron asked curiously.

"Well, I only just realized a bit ago. And…er…I guess I've been working up to it. It's not quite so important to tell them straight away when I live so far from here," he said, grimacing.

"So…er…you have before, then?" Ron asked awkwardly, unable to keep his curiosity at bay. He looked up and saw Harry was now pulled into the struggle, his red-and-gold scarf abandoned in the snow a few feet away.

"Had sex?" Charlie said bluntly. "Yeah."

"Was it…er…the first time…did it hurt?" Ron couldn't help feel that he was crossing some sort of weird line. But, how else was he supposed to know? This information could prove more useful than a story in a magazine…

Charlie smirked.

"Well, no…"

"Who was it with?" Ron asked, cocking his head to the side.

Charlie's cheeks became a bit flushed at this. "One of the other trainers. Don't tell mum."

"Wasn't planning on talking about it any time soon," Ron said flatly. "How did you…er…which one were you?" he asked in a small voice.

Charlie cleared his throat, grinning slightly despite himself.

"I was…er…I was the top. That's why it didn't hurt."

"Wait, so _does_ it hurt if you're not?" Ron asked, panicked. If it did, why would people do it?

"A bit," Charlie said truthfully. "I've, er, ahem…been on the receiving end of things too. But when he's…gentle, and after you get a bit used to it, it doesn't hurt so much anymore. It actually…er…feels good. Well, it's sex, so it's supposed to."

Ron winced, feeling like this conversation was a crime against nature. But he had to keep plugging along. There was no one else to talk to about this stuff. There was no other way.

Just grin and bear it.

"Okay, I'm gonna be painfully honest," Ron sighed, giving him fair warning. Charlie nodded grimly. "Me and Harry have been doing…well…everything _but _that. And I've been…oh god…touching his…his prostate. That's good, right?" he asked, looking into his eyes for some sort of confirmation that he was going about things the right way.

Charlie laughed. Both of them were red in the face, and it wasn't due to the cold anymore.

"Yeah. Good job, Ron," he said teasingly, nudging him with his shoulder.

Ron smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Harry's lucky to have someone who's done his homework," Charlie added, winking and laughing at his mortified look in response. "By the way, looks like he needs your help."

Ron's gaze followed Charlie's pointing to land on the struggle. Bill was trying to pin Harry down with one arm while the other battled both twins at once.

"Oi! Hands off!" Ron shouted, sprinting towards the fight. Charlie doubled over in laughter as he left.

Eventually he joined the fight too, however, and they all worked together to finally bring Bill down in the snow. A collective victory.

* * *

><p>Soaking wet, they all filed into the house after a long game of Quidditch. It was dark out, and increasingly hard to see, so they had decided to call it a tie. His mum was in the kitchen again, clanking noises and the smell of warm food drifting out into the sitting room.<p>

Ron had always liked this room in the house best. It was warm and cozy, with cushions and pillows, and overstuffed armchairs. Most of them had to fight to decide who got the couch, especially when all of them were gathered at the house like this. Well, all of them except for Percy, that is.

Percy was still being a twat apparently, and hadn't even bothered to send so much as a letter for Christmas. He knew he was wrong, the git, but was just being stubborn. Harry hadn't been insane, Dumbledore hadn't either, but Percy was proving to be the_ most_ mental of the three by continuing a feud that he had lost long ago. It was time to bloody pack it in.

Tosser.

"What are you thinking about?" Harry's voice broke through his moody thoughts.

Ron, who had been sitting on the floor, looked to his side to see Harry's face upside-down. His head was hanging over the seat of the sofa, while his legs were draped up over the back of it, making it look as though he were confused about which way one was to sit on such a contraption. Ron laughed.

"You've been glaring at that wall for a while," Harry explained, his hair standing on end as he gestured towards the offending wall.

"Percy being an arse," Ron said, drawing his knees to his chest.

"I wondered where he was," Harry said, nodding. It looked like it took a bit of effort when one was hanging upside-down like that. "Still insisting I'm a nutter, then?"

"No," Ron shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. "He isn't even saying anything. Just being stubborn because he knows he's a git."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, grimacing. He offered his lips, struggling to reach Ron's in a kiss, but failing miserably. Ron laughed and shuffled over, giving him a small peck. Which turned into two. Which turned into five.

"Dinner!" called his mother, and everyone converged almost immediately towards the kitchen.

Dinner was loud and raucous, with large amounts of laughter and talking. Mead flowed freely this evening, getting everyone severely tipsy and somewhat pink in the face. Their anticipation for Christmas, no doubt. However, dinner probably wouldn't be quite as tame tomorrow. During the holidays, Ron's family liked to…loosen up a bit.

"And then the man sends five…_five_…goblins in to do it for him!" Bill slurred to a general chuckling. "I mean, some curse breaker. Couldn't even break a bloody shield charm if he wanted to…"

"Once I had a goblin brought in for selling a flying toaster," his dad said, laughing at the memory. "Kept shooting toast at the muggles who had bought it."

Everyone laughed, Charlie accidentally spilling some of his mead onto the table. No one seemed to notice, however.

Ron looked over the see Harry's cheeks slightly pink as he chuckled at the story. He was always fucking adorable when he blushed, which seemed to be happening increasingly often these days. Ever since the accident in the locker room, that is.

Ron looked down at the amber liquid in his own glass. He recalled how this had all started, just because of a shower and a wet floor. How he had liked the feel of Harry's naked body against his, all slippery and…hard. The muscle of a boy, firm and strong, but smooth and inviting to his touch. How Harry's skin always quivered beneath his fingers, and how he practically begged to be taken, plump lips opening slightly whenever he moaned in pleasure.

Ron gulped, feeling hot all of a sudden. It probably wasn't the mead…

* * *

><p>The door slammed closed, and Ron only had enough time to click the lock before Harry's lips were on his in a desperate kiss. Their tongues battled furiously against each other, and he tangled a hand in that wild black hair to pull them together, never wanting to let go. Harry groaned into his mouth, his breathing heavy. He was excited. They both were. Feeling a tightness in his own trousers, Ron felt his heart rate increasing as he savored the sweet, minty taste of Harry's tongue, mixed with the heavy taste of the mead they had drunk. He clutched brutally at his hair, knowing what was going to happen. Where this was leading. Why they were both so desperately aroused at the thought of simply 'turning in for the night'.<p>

Ron placed his free hand on Harry's waist and walked him back towards the bed.

On the way, they stumbled and tripped, blindly pulling at each other's clothes, trying to get them off as quickly as possible. Harry had managed to undo Ron's buttoned shirt, and Ron had thrown Harry's black jumper to the floor when they toppled over messily onto the bed. Harry threw a leg over and straddled him, causing his cock to strain even more when he felt the equally growing one against it. His green eyes were filled with lust as he looked down, cheeks darkening with the changing atmosphere. Ron could feel hands fumbling on the clasp of his belt and he groaned. A hurried clank and rustling of jean fabric. Then, his trousers were being shoved down, taking his boxers with them, exposing his swelling cock to the cool air of the room. It contrasted with his overheated skin.

"You – you want me to do it, then?" Ron asked breathlessly, looking up at that wonderfully disheveled appearance. Harry's cheeks grew darker, but he nodded eagerly.

Growling (though he didn't register it), Ron grabbed Harry's hips, and rolled to switch their positions, then dragged him forcefully atop the covers to lay longwise on the bed. He hovered over him, feeling a bit predatory. He was going to do this. He and Harry were going to have sex. Ron wanted it so bad that he didn't know what exactly to do first.

Green eyes stared eagerly up at him, begging him for something.

"What is it?" Ron whispered, their faces extremely close.

"This is it, right?" Harry asked. "You're not teasing me anymore?"

"Only if you want it to be," Ron said, running a hand down Harry's still-clad leg. He could feel those powerful thighs, built from holding himself up on a broom for years. The thought that he could very well be between them soon made his mouth nearly water.

"I do," Harry nodded quickly, "I want to. I want to do it."

"You sure?" Ron asked, feeling a bit wary. He wanted to make sure Harry understood what they were doing. How they would do it. "It might…I mean, it might hurt a little. I'll try not to, you know. But…I've never…obviously…so I might not be very good…"

And then, he felt panic strike him as he realized how unprepared for this he really was. He had never had bloody _sex_ before. He didn't know what he was doing. A story in a magazine and a brief talk with a gay brother meant he was ready to handle someone so fragile? Another body, which he would be responsible for _not_ hurting? Someone who had already been through so much pain in their life? God, he was going to bollock it up somehow…

"I've never either," Harry pointed out.

"Well…what if we just…just try, and if it hurts too much, we won't, okay?" Ron proposed nervously.

Harry chuckled and nodded, his nose scrunching up again in his laugh. That cute smile, and cute laugh, and cute eyes and mouth and hair and face, all reminded him why he wanted to do this. He liked Harry, and Harry liked him. And recently he had been feeling perhaps a bit more than that. Harry was drop-dead fuckhot and _willing_ to have sex with him. That was why he was doing this.

Ron leaned down and kissed his neck, starting off where he knew how to go. It was the same as all the others times, wasn't it? Just…a bit further, is all. A bit more complicated. With resolve, he used his previous knowledge of all their other encounters, and silently vowed to make Harry feel as good as possible…

Harry moaned as he bit down on that sensitive skin below his ear. Ron couldn't hide his slightly prideful grin. Harry always liked his teeth, if the small noises he made were any indication. He was kinky and a bit dirty, but that was fine as hell with Ron. A hand threaded into his reddish hair, pushing him close to prevent him from stopping, keeping Ron fused to his throat. He nibbled along the skin of Harry's neck, reaching down and fumbling with the buttons on the other boy's jeans, remembering there was an annoying layer of clothes still in the way. Eventually he got the damn things open and slid them down, though not nearly as roughly as Harry had done his.

Harry's underwear travelled with, leaving him completely naked once he had gotten them all the way off. He clawed at Ron's open shirt, to which Ron helped take off all the way, causing him to become equally as naked. Harry fisted his hair again, pulling him up to snog furiously, those narrow hips thrusting up and making Ron moan into his open, panting mouth. Their cocks rubbed together, hardening fully as Ron thrust back against Harry. He gripped the other boy's waist, pushing against him, reveling in the way they move together. It was so hot and close in this small bed, in this small room, at the very top of the house. Alone.

Fumbling along his bedside table until he felt the drawer, Ron yanked it open and felt around for the bottle inside. After unpacking, he had placed the lube there, knowing it would save him some rummaging later. However, in the dark, and in the prospect of creating fabulous wanking material for weeks, Ron was becoming increasingly clumsy. Ron realized, as his hands closed around the bottle, that if they continued to do this, he wouldn't even have to bloody wank anymore. His cock ached with the idea. He pulled out the bottle and slammed the drawer shut, feeling extremely eager. Why was it so damn hot in here?

Harry groaned, obviously having seen how he was beginning to unstopper the lube. His breathing accelerated and his emerald eyes were wide and innocent. The image went straight to Ron's cock.

He poured some on his hand, then set it back on the nightstand. Ron leaned over him and brought a hand between them, taking both of them at once like last time.

Harry gasped, thrusting up automatically, and it took a great deal of effort for Ron not to do the same. He had forgotten how good it felt, to have both of them in hand like this, rubbing together and all slick and warm. He pressed his body closer to Harry's, capturing his mouth again and groaning against his lips. It was all too good. Feeling this, so close to the boy beneath him, so hot and aroused and fucking randy as all hell. He just wanted to get on with it, but this, at the same time, felt so good…

He kissed the side of Harry's face, moving his mouth to his ear.

"I'm…gonna start now, okay?" he whispered, feeling as though he should give some sort of heads-up. He felt rather than saw Harry nod his approval, wild black hair tickling his cheek.

Removing his hand from between them and reaching blindly over, he dipped two of his fingers into the lubricant and brought them back around. He lifted Harry's hips and wiggled his hand underneath, finding his arse easily. At least they had done this part before, so he didn't feel like a complete idiot.

Harry whimpered as Ron teased the little opening lightly. He hoped it was in anticipation, because he sure as hell was looking forward to it. His finger became more insistent, pushing slowly, drawing it out, while his other arm wrapped round the back of Harry's torso to hold him close.

Both of them grunted as he slid his middle finger in first, and Ron nipped at Harry's neck as he began moving it slowly. Harry began panting again, grinding his hips up into Ron's, driving him insane with the friction against his cock. Harry was moaning already, and they had barely started.

Ron arched his finger slightly, finding that spot that drove him wild, and heard Harry's breath catch in his throat. He grinned again, his face buried in the crook of Harry's neck, and began rubbing the spot repeatedly. Harry made adorable little whining sounds, and Ron could feel nails digging into his back as he teased him mercilessly. His breathless noises were what made Ron's day…

"Ron, I'll come…" Harry said weakly, gripping his arms around Ron's torso tightly.

He dropped his head to Harry's shoulder, forcing himself to stop, and gently pushed a second finger in. Harry breathed out against his ear, still clutching around him, and held still this time instead of thrusting upward. Ron suspected he was getting used to the stretch, or perhaps preparing himself for the greater stretch that was in store for him…it didn't take a dragon specialist to figure out where this was going.

Again, Ron teased that little spot, making Harry squirm slightly. He didn't want Harry to come before they had started, though, so he concentrated more on easing him into getting stretched out. He pushed his two fingers deeper than usual, all the way to the base, and worked at it slowly to give him time. He even stroked Harry's cock a few times with his other hand to make sure he wasn't too nervous, or focusing too much on the pain that might come. It definitely seemed to work, for he was whining more insistently after only a short moment.

Taking a shaky breath and trying not to concentrate on how wonderfully tight Harry felt, Ron eased in a third finger. He didn't miss how Harry stiffened slightly and closed his eyes, but he wasn't protesting or crying out in pain, so Ron went as slowly as he could manage. Three fingers seemed like a lot to him, really, but Harry was taking it quite well in his opinion.

Soon, he was writhing slightly and his cheeks were all flushed as Ron pumped them slowly into him. His own breath was becoming a bit ragged from watching the erotic display. His cock ached with need and anticipation, remaining untouched this whole time, and wanting so desperately what it was being promised. The fascinating sight of Harry keening at his ministrations was nearly overwhelming. Well, more so than usual.

Harry's narrow hips were thrusting upward again, rubbing their cocks together beautifully. Ron moaned, biting Harry's shoulder to keep himself under control. Harry moved desperately against him, clutching at his shoulders, fisting his hair, and nipping his ear in the most delicious ways.

"Are…are you ready?" Ron asked in a strangled voice, hoping dearly that the answer was 'yes'.

"Mph, god yes," Harry breathed against his hair, giving a forceful jerk of his hips as confirmation. "Fuck me…please…"

He didn't need telling twice. Ron gently removed his fingers form Harry's arse and quickly sat up, feeling his heart beating madly inside his chest. He reached over for the bottle again and coated his erection in lube a second time, wanting to make sure he was good and slippery for all this. God, why was he so nervous?

He looked down at the panting, flushed, glistening body below him, and realized that he was nervous because Harry seemed so breakable. He was so smooth and adorable, and so nice to just _be_ around.

But no. He wasn't breakable. Part of the reason Ron liked him was because he was just so _boy. _He was hard, and firm, had biceps and abs. Harry was fucking sexy as hell, and his eyes even now were bright with lust. Just because he was handsome and had a cute nose didn't mean he wasn't the randy little bugger he acted like. Harry was tough, and strong, and liked to be treated rough because he could handle it. He wasn't a girl, and neither was Ron. Therefore, neither of them had to act like it.

Ron moved closer on his knees, placing himself between Harry's legs. He looked up and spread the legs wide, pushing on the inside of Harry's thighs to ease them apart further. Taking a deep breath, Ron grabbed the base of his own cock and put it at Harry's entrance, looking up to make sure he knew this was it.

As he pushed slowly, Harry immediately stiffened, and Ron's breath caught in his throat. The constricting feeling around the head of his cock was unimaginable, something he hadn't been ready for. He had expected it to be tight…but wow. There was nothing else like it, that he knew of anyway. He breathed out shakily, seeing Harry's expression. He was biting his lower lip and gripping the blankets beneath them, arms and stomach tensed. Perhaps that was why he was so tight…

"Harry you…you have to relax," Ron said weakly, placing his other hand on Harry's tense abdomen. "Otherwise it hurts more."

"Okay," he whispered, taking a shaky deep breath. He closed his eyes and slowly let the sheets out of his clenched hands, leaving them rumpled and abused-looking. His face softened gradually as Ron continued to smooth his hand along Harry's stomach. He could feel the abdominal muscles loosen beneath his fingers, easing at his touch. Harry's legs fell flat on either side, spread out for Ron to continue.

Ron took a deep breath of his own and pushed slowly again, watching carefully. Harry's eyebrows were drawn together and his breaths were shallow, but his arse was a bit less tense, at least. Still better than anything Ron had felt, though.

"Merlin," Ron groaned, gripping the other boy's hip to ground himself. It was so hot, so tight. He could feel his cock being pressed from all sides, squeezing on it with a wonderful pressure. Suffocating it in a delightfully inescapable way.

At about halfway in, Ron reached down and began to stroke Harry again to try and distract him. Harry grunted and his expression softened a bit again, which was a good sign. Ron pulled back out a bit and thrust forward minimally, hoping that if he eased his way in like this, small, light thrusts, Harry would be able to get used to it better. He held Harry's hips up slightly, so that he wasn't tensing with the effort of doing it himself. His hand stroked slowly along Harry's length, hopefully calming him as he worked slowly inside.

When he felt his hips finally meet flush with Harry's arse, it about undid him. The thought of being buried all the way inside Harry, that his cock was surrounded by his body, was a bit overwhelming. He looked down, trying to stop himself from pulling back and slamming into that tight heat, to gauge Harry's reaction.

He was looking up, wide green eyes meeting shocked blue ones.

"You okay?" Ron asked, worried.

Harry nodded, shifting his legs slightly. Ron took them and wrapped them around his waist to make him more comfortable, then leaned forward to kiss him.

His elbows propped him up slightly so that his dick didn't slip out. They kissed slowly, all tongue and teeth and heavy breathing. Ron's hand tangled in his thick, black hair to push them closer together at the lips, if that were even possible. No matter how many times they snogged, Ron would never get tired of that minty taste.

Unable to handle it any longer, he gave one more kiss, straightened up, and took hold of Harry's hips, resting back on his knees. He had to move soon, had to do something or his cock would explode. Harry was laid out before him, arms thrown up haphazardly beside his head on the pillow, flushed and breathless and looking slightly desperate. His plump lips were open with his heavy breaths, looking so fucking pink and just…sexy.

Ron brought his hips back slowly and pushed forward again, feeling a delicious friction against his cock as he did. His hands gripped Harry tightly, holding on for dear life as he tried to go slow. Ron thrust again, feeling himself go deep inside, surrounded by unbearable warmth. Harry grunted slightly, closing his eyes, and Ron started to move at a pace, as gently as he could.

He moaned at the feel of Harry's arse, letting his head fall back a bit in his upright position. His cock rejoiced in the wonderful constricted space it was occupying, and every time he sank into Harry, he gave a small groan, unable to contain himself. It was unlike anything. So good, and hot, and wonderful beyond words. Harry's breathing soon became ragged, and he began gasping lightly with each thrust.

Ron forced himself to concentrate. To open his eyes and pay attention. He moved one of his hands over Harry's tensing stomach, feeling the muscles ripple as he pushed deep inside him rhythmically. His hand found Harry's cock again, which was looking strained and neglected.

The body beneath him writhed as he began stroking firmly, and he could hear the small noises Harry was making between gasps. The room was silent apart from them, Ron panting and Harry growing more vocal with each thrust. His cock was slick with lube already, but Ron could see precum joining it, smearing with his movements. Ron licked his lips and pushed harder, deeper into that tight arse so willingly given up to him.

Harry gave a throaty moan, which made Ron's eyes snap up to his face.

"Again," Harry begged, jerking his hips down onto Ron's cock.

Ron got over his momentary retardation and thrust in the same manner. It was upward slightly, in the same spot Harry always liked him to touch. His prostate, which drove him mad, and was clearly still doing so as he moaned once more at the action.

Encouraged, Ron grabbed both of Harry's hips again and thrust hard against that spot, trying to position each one like the last. Harry whined, tensing up, but this time not as a warning. He ran a hand through his own jet-black hair, looking pleasantly frustrated as Ron reveled in the sudden change of reaction. That small spot meant the world, it seemed.

Harry was bucking and moaning wildly, his narrow hips grinding back into him, meeting every thrust he gave. Ron slammed harder into him, taking the hints gladly and returning the desperate noises with a few of his own. He grunted with the effort, moaning occasionally whenever Harry gave a particularly slow grind of his hips, the sensation on his cock nearly unbearable. At these, Harry would whine erotically.

"Does that feel good?" Ron asked breathlessly, smirking down at him. He obviously knew the answer, but he wanted to hear it for himself.

"Don't stop" Harry moaned, reaching up and grabbing his arms. Harry pulled him down again and ravished his mouth, that sweet tongue battling with his own. He could feel a hand tangled in his hair, pulling roughly and forcing him to stay down.

They were closer this way, but Ron's hips didn't slow at all in the new position. He didn't think they could if he even wanted to. He slammed his cock into Harry's arse, their groans muffled by the other's mouth.

Feeling his orgasm imminent already, Ron broke the kiss and buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck. He worked a hand between them to grasp the other boy's erection again, slick and clearly desperate for attention. Ron pumped at it firmly, trying to make sure Harry came first. If he didn't, Ron wasn't sure he could stay hard long enough to finish him off.

"You feel so good, Harry," he breathed, turning his head to whisper against Harry's neck. "I love fucking your tight arse. I love knowing that I'm gonna come inside you."

He nibbled the shell of Harry's ear, hearing a drawn-out moan in response. Though, whether this was because of his words or his actions, Ron was unsure.

Ron stroked firmly along Harry's cock, pounding into him vigorously. He heard another loud moan, felt Harry's teeth bite viciously into his shoulder, and then Harry was coming hard. Cum flooded between them, messily spurting onto Ron's stomach, warm and sticky and seeping over his hand. He continued to thrust into him, working his cock as Harry's cries were muffled by the skin of his shoulder. But it was Harry's arse tightening around him that brought Ron over the edge shortly after.

He moaned, jerking his hips and losing all rhythm as he felt his orgasm approaching. Harry's hot breath in his ear and the blunt nails digging into his back added to his clouded thoughts, and all he could feel was mind-numbing pleasure. With a strangled cry, his seed emptied inside Harry, flowing warmly around his cock, into that tight space. His arms clutched around the limp body beneath him, from whom he could hear small grunts with each wild thrust. He panted and moaned, lost in his own pleasure, until there was nothing left for him to give.

When he slowed, gaining back the mental awareness to do so, he felt Harry's legs drop to the sides, both boys completely exhausted.

Ron rested his forehead against Harry's shoulder, panting and trying to regain control of his limbs. He was propped up on his elbows, but that was the extent of his strength at the moment.

He felt a light kiss to the side of his face, followed immediately by a wandering tongue.

"That was hot," Harry said simply. He sounded out of breath too.

Ron laughed.

"Yeah."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note Again: <strong>Gah, that was scary. I edited this a million times, but also tried to not over-edit, you know? Anyways, I hope I didn't screw it up...Lol, get it? _Screw _it up?

Ugh.


	20. Christmas: Part 1

**Author's Note: **Wrote an extremely short chapter just to answer some questions and clarify points that were in the reviews. Plus, I love writing Ron's point-of-view...

* * *

><p>At some point they must have fallen asleep, because Ron woke to the sounds of tapping again, only this time not on his window. Something more solid than that. His eyes cracked open, though quite reluctantly.<p>

"Mph," he grunted, taking a brief inventory to figure out where most of his limbs were.

Harry must have been snuggled up to him, because he could feel a solid weight draped over half of his chest, and his chin was being tickled by wild black hair. Harry's face was buried in the crook of his neck, his gentle breath ghosting over Ron's skin. He looked down slightly. The fingers of his right hand were splayed out on Harry's back, where he could feel the lean muscle of his shoulders and the rise and fall of them in rhythm with his breathing. Harry's hand was curled into a loose fist, which was resting just above Ron's left nipple. The other boy's body pressed up against him felt so pleasantly warm…and naked.

Ron smiled, closing his eyes again and remembering the events of last night.

He had probably been a bit fumbly, which was to be expected for anyone's first time, one would think. But once he had begun thrusting into that tight arse, all nervousness had been forgotten and replaced by some sort of animal-like instinct. He could practically still feel Harry around him, constricting almost unbearably on his cock, nearly drawing the orgasm from him right at the start. And seeing Harry underneath him, flushed and panting and moaning loudly, clutching at him as if he were even contemplating moving away, had been something he thought he would only see in his dreams. The image he made, looking so needy and wanting, would never leave Ron's mind until the day he died. Maybe even after that.

He sighed contentedly into Harry's hair, pulling him a bit closer to steal some of the warmth that was radiating off him. Ron slowly closed his eyes, reveling in the slight erection he was getting from thoughts of sex.

_Tap tap tap._

"Good Merlin on a crutch," Ron snarled, though quietly enough to not wake Harry.

Some moron was tapping at his door. Not quite a knock, but loud enough to be deliberate, of course. He looked up at the clock on his wall and saw that it was bloody five in the morning. Ron seriously doubted that anyone would be up before nine, due to the mead last night. How in the hell was _he _even up? Didn't Harry usually have to rouse him physically before he even thought about waking?

Thinking that this better be well fucking worth it, Ron wiggled his way out from underneath Harry, again, and shuffled over to his wardrobe. Digging through it, he found a pair of pyjama bottoms and, regrettably, boxers, slipping them on before walking to his bedroom door. His poster of the Chudley Canons' useless seeker waved to him, which he returned half-heartedly before opening it.

"Yes?" Ron answered, irritable yet groggy.

His eyes opened a bit wider as he realized his father was standing before him. He was quite still, seemingly trying to be quiet. Well, that explained the hesitant knocking. But what the hell was he doing? Ron couldn't remember his father having come up here since the day before he was to leave for Hogwarts. He had been nervous about making friends.

Well, that had turned out well enough.

"Hello son," he said, smiling. It seemed a tad awkward and strained, however. Perhaps because Ron wasn't wearing a shirt. That probably looked a bit incriminating…

"Hi dad," he said, crossing his arms to somewhat shield himself. "Er…anything wrong?"

"No son, no…I just…I wanted to speak to you about…well, I know it's early, but we need to talk about you and Harry," he said firmly. "Alone."

Ron's eyes widened more.

"But I thought…I mean, I thought you were okay with us being…" he said, his face falling. Apparently his assumption that everything was okay, that it was alright if he preferred boys, was wrong. But his parents had seemed so accepting of it before...he hadn't thought they would change their minds.

"No, son, it's not that I don't approve," he said warmly. "We just need to talk about…some things."

"Like what?" Ron asked, puzzled.

His father stood there, his eyes drifting down to Ron's chest, and a slight smirk crept over his features.

"Well, that," he said, pointing to where his eyes had landed.

Ron looked down quickly at his shoulder. He exhaled shakily when he saw the large mark there, an angry pink, almost purple color, which also roughly resembled the size and shape of Harry's mouth. He cleared his throat and looked up at his father, feeling his cheeks burning intensely.

"Cup of tea?" his dad asked, the knowledgeable smirk not quite yet disappeared. He gestured for Ron to come along and headed down the stairs.

Sighing in defeat and mortification, Ron closed his door and followed.

* * *

><p>Down in the kitchen, a mug of tea was set down in front of him as he sat at the scrubbed wooden table. It was drowned in sugar and cream, with probably less actual tea in ratio to condiments. Just how he liked. His dad wasn't necessarily the cook of the house, but he knew everyone's drink preferences to the letter. His father clanked about a bit in the background, putting things away, and then came to sit opposite him. Ron took the steaming mug, knowing he would need it soon with how business-like the man looked at the moment. This was going to be unpleasant.<p>

His father folded his hand atop the table, staring straight at him.

"Are you and Harry having sex?"

Ron nearly spewed the tea across the table, but settled for coughing and almost choking on it instead. He hadn't expected him to get to the point so quickly, especially since it was his dad. His mother was a different story, but things tended around the hesitant side whenever his father was involved. When Ron had recovered, he nodded, swallowing the mouthful that had nearly killed him.

"And have you had sex here at home?"

Ron sighed. He hated the way that word sounded on his father's tongue, for it seemed to give Ron's stomach a horrible lurch every time he said it. It wasn't right.

"Well actually," Ron said, squirming slightly under his father's firm gaze. "Er…last night was…er…"

"Your first time?" he asked gently, raising his eyebrows in question.

Ron nodded silently, wondering how much trouble he was in. Shagging at home was probably worth a fair few points. He looked guiltily down at the table, fiddling with the mug in his hands to avoid his father's penetrating stare.

It lasted a while, too, as the man studied his son closely.

"Well, thank you for telling the truth, Ron," he said, smiling slightly. "I'm not able to say the same for your brothers, that's for certain," he added under his breath.

Trying not to think about all of his family members and their respective partners, Ron focused on the rivulets of steam dancing from the mug. This conversation had been horrible enough with Charlie, though albeit with more details. But why did it seem so much worse?

"Are you being…well, careful isn't exactly the right word, I suppose," his father said, trailing off and looking uncomfortable. "Thoughtful, I should say?"

"Er…what?"

"Are you taking care of his needs as well?"

Both of them seemed to shudder slightly. It was hard to tell who was more uncomfortable, though Ron figured he had it worse. He could feel the blush creeping up again as he took a moment to answer. This was not a conversation he had ever pictured having with his father, that was for sure.

"Yes. I mean…I try to…you know…pay him attention and all," Ron finished lamely.

"And are you both using the right…er…materials? I understand it can be different for two…males."

"Er…I think so," Ron said, grimacing. "Like…oh god…lube and stuff, right?"

"Yes."

"Yeah."

"Should I ask how you acquired these?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Fair enough," his father said, nodding. He unclasped his hands and folded his arms loosely, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Where do you see this going, exactly?"

He sounded politely interested, but Ron couldn't help feel that this was some sort of test.

"I…I dunno. I think we're both trying to figure that out," Ron said, running a hand through his own messy red hair. "I mean…it's hard, all of this. But I think…I dunno…"

"What is it?" his father asked, cocking his head to the side.

"I think that maybe…it's a bit more than just…you know. Caring a bit about each other," Ron finished, biting his lower lip in hesitation. His fingers drummed against the side of the mug.

"How do you mean?"

Ron didn't answer, but stared pensively at the tea.

"Do you think it might be a bit more than just mutual interest?" he said, pressing further.

"I think so," Ron said quietly, gripping the mug tightly. "I mean I haven't…haven't said anything. But I think I might…really like him."

"What about him do you like?" his father asked.

"I dunno," Ron started, lolling his head to the side. "I guess I really like…really like how nice he is. And he sometimes just does little things without noticing them. But _I_ notice, you know? Like even a kiss or holding hands or something. He does it at the right time and I just…It makes my stomach feel funny."

Ron looked up and saw a slight smirk on his father's face again, but mixed with something else he couldn't quite decipher. He turned his attention back to the mug, fiddling with it absently.

"Charlie told me about himself," his father said suddenly, changing the subject.

"Really?" Ron asked, his head snapping up quickly.

"Yes. He said he was glad that you had done it first, though," he chuckled. "It broke the ice for his own confession. He also told me that he had informed you of it first."

"Yeah, he did. I was surprised," Ron said truthfully.

"As was I. Two sons in one day. Must be some sort of record," his father said, but when Ron looked up, his eyes were crinkled in amusement. But the smile faded and he quickly turned serious, leaning forward to place his crossed arms on the table. "I do want you to know Ron that I meant what I said before. It's nothing to be ashamed of, and I'm sorry if we never talked about it enough at home to where you were unsure of how we would react. Just know that no matter what, your mother and I will _always_ love you, and nothing can ever change that."

"Thanks," Ron said, his voice shaking slightly despite himself.

"No problem son. Just make sure you treat Harry as well as he deserves. Merlin knows he's had enough hardships in his life. And be sure to show a bit of modesty with your, er, affections towards one another."

"I will. Am I in trouble?" he asked, looking up through his lashes.

"No," his father said, shrugging. He straightened his glasses.

"Why not? Not that I'm complaining," Ron added quickly. He was a bit confused on this matter. Shouldn't having sex be hated by parents or something, especially when it was in their own house?

"Because you're almost an adult now, Ron," he said firmly. "In a few months, that will be final. I trust you to be smart enough with your own decisions, and to know how to handle a relationship properly. For example, I made the unwise decision of indulging too much on the mead during dinner yesterday, but when your mother told me to get up and go put a silencing charm over your door last night, I did it anyways."

"W-what?" Ron yelped, nearly knocking his tea over.

His father smiled mischievously, resembling Fred and George in a very frightening way.

"You may want to get some more sleep, son. No doubt everyone will want to open presents in a few hours."

His father winked, stood, and walked merrily out of the kitchen, leaving him there to gape at the empty chair.


	21. Christmas: Part 2

**Author's Note: **Wow, 95 reviews, eh? I may have a bit of a surprise at the end of this chapter, in order to celebrate a possible 100? We shall see...

* * *

><p>Harry woke to a brief, wet, tingly feeling on his cheek.<p>

And then another.

And another.

"Hngh," he said, squinting his eyes open and twisting around slightly to face the culprit.

Ron, or what was undoubtedly Ron's fuzzy outline, was lying next to him in the small bed, pressing kisses along the side of his face. Now that they were facing each other, Harry felt another kiss placed directly on the tip of his nose, which brought into focus Ron's bright blue eyes.

"Hello," he said, sounding as though he were smiling. "Did I ever tell you that you have a cute nose?"

"No," Harry slurred, blinking several times to try and wake up proper.

"Well, you do."

Another kiss.

Harry sighed contentedly, turning his head back to face forward. He could feel the lovely warmth of the blankets and the body behind him. Ron was pressed right up against his back, an arm slung over Harry's waist. He was quite naked apparently, for Harry could feel skin touching everywhere on his own equally bare body. Plus, Harry thought he could feel something poking him in the leg…

The memories from last night crept slowly back into his mind, putting a blush and a smile simultaneously on his face.

The feel of Ron's cock, pushing inside him for the first time. How he was leaning over Harry's body, muscles rippling and glistening in the low light. Skin flushed, red hair tousled, mouth open and panting. The way Ron had touched him while thrusting into him, hitting that spot and making Harry weak with pleasure. The way Harry had felt so taken, just there for Ron to use as he wished, yet so delicately handled at the same time. Calloused hands running along his skin, teeth nipping at his neck, and Ron's moans of pleasure as he took what he wanted, yet gave so much back. It all made Harry shudder at the recollection.

He liked it, this sex stuff.

It had been a bit painful at first, of course, but Harry had been expecting such. Plus, Ron had been extremely careful, which Harry was grateful for. He had been gentle, slow, and altogether caring in his whole approach. Harry had never really had anyone like that before who had cared so much for him, besides Sirius. And even Sirius had been limited in his ability to show any affection. Ron was someone who was there to not hurt him, or hunt him down, or try to torture him for amusement. Ron didn't ignore him and lock him away in a cupboard, or tell him he was worthless, or fawn unnecessarily over him either. Ron was someone who was…well…there. Because he wanted to be.

Harry didn't know why his throat felt so tight.

"You're hard," Ron chuckled, nipping at his ear.

His teeth trailed lower, down Harry's neck to his shoulder. There they stayed, the other boy's tongue playing gently along his skin, licking lightly and then nibbling a bit harder. The arm over Harry's waist was snaking lower and lower under the blankets, until it reached its intended target and took hold of his –

"Were you thinking of me?" Ron whispered, a playful tone to his voice that went straight to Harry's cock.

"A bit," he admitted, squirming slightly under Ron's firm touch. The hand wrapped around his erection was slowly stroking up and down, squeezing roughly and only succeeding in making him harder.

His breath became shallow and he held the blanket a bit more tightly in his fingers. Ron was never an early riser, that much was certain, but it seemed with the proper motivation he woke up on his own after all. Harry hadn't even had to use any threats today. Plus,_ he_ certainly didn't mind being woken up if it entailed this in the mornings…

"You gave me quite a mark last night," Ron muttered against his hair.

"What?" Harry asked. His voice was a bit shaky, for he was obviously distracted by the boy who was wanking him from behind. Not to mention, the persistent erection that was pressing against his bare arse…

"When you came, you bit me pretty hard," Ron chuckled slightly. His warm breath was playing gently along the back of Harry's neck.

He looked back again to see that he had, in fact, given Ron a rather vicious-looking love bite on his shoulder. It was a dark pink, almost purple, and marred the smooth complexion of the rest of his skin. It couldn't have felt good.

"I'm sorry," Harry gasped, looking up at those bright blue eyes again. He felt terrible. After Ron had been so careful not to hurt _him,_ he had been the one who needed taming instead…

"It's okay," Ron whispered. Harry felt his other hand thread through his wild black hair. "I liked it."

He pressed his erection harder against Harry's arse, making him groan slightly. Well, _he_ was quite randy this morning. Even more so than usual, if his wandering hands and straining erection were any indication. But feeling those calloused fingers dance across his skin certainly didn't make Harry want to tell him to stop. Far from, actually.

The nipping at his skin became more insistent, as well as the firm stroking of his cock. Harry whimpered slightly, thrusting his hips forward to meet that sweet friction. He reached back and threaded a hand through Ron's red hair, feeling the single curl at the nape of his neck that was so…adorable. He fisted the coppery strands when Ron rutted against him slightly, making it quite clear what he wanted to do. Again.

"Are you sore?" Ron asked, slightly muffled against his skin.

"A little," Harry answered truthfully.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Harry laughed. "It's okay. I think it was pretty much worth it."

"I'll make it up to you," Ron said, a mischievous tone to his voice that never meant anything good.

Or sometimes, it meant something _really _good.

Harry felt Ron shuffling behind him and then, he descended beneath the blankets.

"Oh no…" Harry whined, feeling his hips seized and him being pushed to lie on his back. Strong hands spread his legs, and a warm body moved between them.

The concept sounded a bit whore-ish, but Harry couldn't help but think that, whenever he had his legs open, wonderful things seemed to happen to him. Such as now, for instance.

"Ohh…" Harry moaned, closing his eyes as warmth engulfed his erection. He reached down and threaded his fingers through Ron's hair, feeling how he was already starting to move up and down.

Harry's breath became uneven and he could feel that sinful tongue swirling around the head of his cock, so soft and wet and pleasantly warm. Ron knew how to get the reactions he wanted now, and he was licking and sucking in all the right places to get them. Harry gasped, feeling the tip of his tongue push roughly against the head, working against the slit there. He gripped Ron's hair tighter, as well as the blanket with his other hand, and panted wildly at the sensation.

He stared blindly up at the ceiling, unable to make out any distinct shapes, and concentrated on his other senses instead. He could feel Ron's hands on his thighs, holding him open. The roughness of the skin on them, the feeling of a Keeper's touch, made Harry unbelievably more randy. He could feel the way Ron's fingers squeezed lightly against his skin every time he went down, taking him as deep as he could go. He could feel Ron's breath, and hear the small noises he made. And he could feel how, when he dipped nearly all the way down, his throat constricted around the tip of Harry's cock, making him moan.

"Fuck, I love practice," Harry breathed, arching his back slightly as Ron did it again.

Ron's hands moved up to his hips, sliding around until each one was grasping an arse cheek firmly. He squeezed slightly, moaning around the erection in his mouth.

Harry shoved the blankets away, too hot to keep them on any longer. Ron's fuzzy outline and red hair became visible to him, his head bobbing slowly between Harry's legs. Harry couldn't see exactly what he was doing, but he could sure as hell feel it.

Moaning, he turned his head to the side, feeling the imminent buildup that would unfortunately end this. He would gladly thrust into Ron's mouth all day if he were given permission, but somehow that didn't seem realistic. Plus, Ron's tongue was too talented. Harry wasn't going to be able to last longer than Ron _allowed _him to…

To his horror, unfortunately, Harry heard footsteps coming up the stairs, right outside Ron's door.

Panicking, Harry looked over to see if it was locked, and then mentally chastised himself for not remembering that he was practically blind. It was amazing, the things one forgot on the brink of an orgasm…

"Ron, there's someone outside the door," Harry said quickly.

Ron grunted and shook his head, plunging down once more on Harry's cock.

"Seriously, they're coming," Harry urged, tugging his hair lightly to get his attention.

Ron ignored him.

Feeling annoyed, yet terribly aroused, Harry was trying to decide which path to take here. He could let Ron be an arse and finish him, but that may end with him having an orgasm in front of one of Ron's family members. He could pull Ron off, but then would be immensely sexually frustrated the remainder of the day…

"Ron, what if they walk in," Harry whimpered, his reasoning powers waning quickly.

Ron reached up, took Harry's forearms in each hand, and pinned them to the bed, preventing him from stopping anything. Apparently he had already decided.

Harry whined, arching up as Ron swallowed around him again. That sinful mouth worked roughly along him, drawing out small sounds and gasps from his throat. His legs were still splayed open, despite that being his only remaining form of resistance. Apparently _he_ had decided as well…

"Ron?"

Oh god. One of the older brothers. Either Charlie or Bill, Harry wasn't sure. He was having trouble concentrating when Ron's tongue was moving along the underside of his cock like that. He grunted towards the ceiling, trying to restrain the noise so that whoever it was wouldn't hear.

Ron grunted as well, sinking down once more to take him at full length. Harry panted wildly, his hips thrusting upward to seek more. He was so close…

"Ron, I break curses in ancient Egyptian tombs for a living. I think I can handle a muggle door lock."

Harry moaned, though a bit strangled, his pinned hands gripping the sheets tightly. He came deep into Ron's throat. Hot seed flowed from him, flooding the wet heat before the other boy could swallow properly. Harry could hear the slurping noises as Ron tried to keep up, but could vaguely register some dribbling down the side of his cock as his hips bucked up of their own accord. Harry muffled the rest of his vocal expressions by biting harshly on his lower lip, quelling most of the sounds except for the most desperate ones. Finally, he felt the sensation fade to a bearable level...

He lay there when it was over, chest heaving. Ron let Harry's cock slip from his mouth with a small _spuk_.

Ron got up, threw the blankets over Harry's lifeless form, and rummaged around on the floor. Harry got a glimpse of his bare arse before pyjamas were pulled up and unfortunately covered the view. He wasn't wearing pants though. Or a shirt.

But apparently that didn't seem to matter, because he opened the door anyways.

"What?" Ron asked, sounding irritable.

"Okay, mum and dad said that we're gonna do presents soon. So you two should come down."

"Okay."

"What's that?"

"What?"

"On your…oh my god…please do _not _tell me that's what I think it is."

"Oh. Oops."

"Jesus Ron…"

"Must've missed some…"

Harry heard a mischievous tone to Ron's voice, as though he weren't sorry in the slightest for whatever had happened. Harry's eyes widened in panic. What the hell were they talking about?

"And what's that on your shoul – ? Oh my god. I'm leaving."

"Alright, see you soon!" Ron said cheerily, speaking loudly after the thundering footsteps in the distance.

He closed the door, put his back to it, and started laughing. Harry looked at his fuzzy outline, confused and worried.

"What is it?" he asked warily.

As Ron approached the bed, Harry saw his arm reach up and wipe across his mouth, as if he had something on his face. As if something had dribbled out from his mouth…wait…

"Oh no…Is that my – from my – ?" Harry asked weakly, hoping it wasn't true.

"Yeah. Apparently I was a bit…er…sloppy," Ron said, an obvious grin in his voice. "Bill noticed. Sorry."

"You didn't sound so sorry," Harry groaned, pressing his palms to his eyes in humiliation. He felt more weight added to the bed as Ron sat beside him.

"That's because I'm not, really," Ron said. Harry could tell he was smirking without even looking at him. His arms were pried away from his face by strong hands, and he felt Ron's mouth at his ear. "I'm glad everyone knows. I _like _sucking you off."

He punctuated his sentence by flicking his tongue out. Harry felt it trace against the shell of his ear before ending its journey with a light nip to the skin there.

"Well then…" Harry said shakily, forgetting why he was so embarrassed. "Won't you get in trouble though? With your parents, and everything?"

"Er…" Ron sounded uncomfortable at this. He was either hiding something, or realizing that Harry was right.

"What?" Harry pressed.

"Well, they er…maybe…sort of…already know," Ron said slowly.

"And why would that be?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes. Ron couldn't see him, for he was still speaking against his ear, but this only confirmed that something was awry. No eye contact meant bad things were about to be revealed.

"Well, they sort of heard us last night, I guess. And dad had to come put up a silencing charm to…cover the noise," he finished, sounding as though he were wincing.

"Oh nooooo…" Harry moaned, closing his eyes again. The blush that flushed over his cheeks was strong, brought on by the immediate image of Mr. Weasley having to come up in the middle of their intercourse, hearing their moans and grunts the entire way.

"But he was fine with it," Ron added quickly, wrapping his arms around Harry in a sort of loose hug around his middle. "He said that I'm almost an adult now, and whoever I sleep with is my business. Or something like that."

"Really?" Harry asked, slightly taken aback. He couldn't help but feel that, if the Dursleys ever discovered he had been sleeping with someone in their house, and a boy nonetheless, he would be thrown out so quickly he wouldn't even have time to put his clothes back on. Or he could simply be killed. It was a toss-up, really.

He was jealous, but not too negative about the whole thing. After all, if it meant he got to fuck at night and get sucked in the mornings, how could he be?

Ron looked up and Harry saw his bright blue eyes, so clear now that he was right up close to him. The sapphires blinked a few times, looking wide and innocent next to the sprinkling of freckles across that smooth skin, over the bridge of Ron's nose and his cheeks. But as Harry's eyes trailed to his mouth, landing on that plump bottom lip, he saw a glimmer of what must have been his own semen trailing from the corner, proving that the boy in front of him was _far_ from innocent…

Smirking, Harry leaned up, and licked it right off. The taste of himself was strange, as it had been the first time he tasted it in a shared kiss. It was different from Ron's, but similar, in a way. Ron groaned, burying his head in the crook of Harry's neck.

"You can't do shit like that," he said in a muffled voice.

"Why not?" Harry asked, feeling a bit ashamed. Great, now Ron probably thought he was some sort of freak...

"It turns me on too much…"

Harry laughed. He reached up and pulled Ron's hair to bring him close, snogging him messily, tongues working together from long acquired familiarity. Cherries, chocolate, and everything sweet flooded Harry's senses, and he was lost.

But unfortunately, Ron pulled away, panting slightly.

"Let's hurry up and get dressed before I get too hard from all this."

Harry nodded reluctantly, following him out of bed.

* * *

><p>They shuffled into the sitting room, wearing an acceptable amount of clothing now and free of any erections. Upstairs Harry had attempted to straighten out his hair in the bathroom mirror, which then insulted him, causing Ron to threaten to use it as a target for Quidditch practice. He insisted that the mirror was wrong, and that Harry was a sexy beast who he would gladly fuck right now if it weren't time to open presents. They then snogged, again, and had to spend a minute calming down before they finally headed downstairs.<p>

Thus, here they were, slightly pink in the face but otherwise normal.

"Ah, boys, why don't you grab your presents and sit over there by the twins, yes?" Mr. Weasley said, indicating two piles of brightly wrapped parcels. He was sitting next to his own rather hefty mountain, part of which was spilling into his lap. Even Mrs. Weasley, who was usually bustling about in the background, was sat in one of the overstuffed armchairs next to a neat tower of her own presents, waiting patiently.

Harry and Ron walked over, scooped up their presents, and sat next to George's chair. The twins had long since started opening theirs, apparently too impatient to wait on them to come downstairs. Everyone else began tearing into the parcels now as well, making a chorus of loud ripping noises echo throughout the room.

"Wow, dad!" Ron said, opening a box and revealing a set of violent orange Chudley Cannons' robes. They were emblazoned with two black 'C's and a speeding cannonball, proudly displayed across the chest. "That's awesome!"

"Thought you'd like it, son," Mr. Weasley said, grinning proudly.

Harry looked over and saw that he had an identically wrapped present, the tag stating that it was from Mr. Weasley as well. Sure enough, when he tore the paper off and lifted the lid, the same bright orange color greeted him, nearly searing his retinas. He pulled them out, laughing. They looked pretty authentic, and quite official with all the ties and straps. Similar to their Gryffindor robes, they had slightly shorter sleeves, and were made of a bit thicker material to protect the player from the wind and rain. Straps on the inside of the sleeves tied to fit the wrist guards players were usually required to wear, and a loop in the back of the robes connected to the player's belt, making sure they stayed on when you were flying upside-down or in some of the stronger elements. They were the real deal.

"Wow, thanks, Mr. Weasley," Harry said, looking up at the slightly balding man. "Where did you even _get_ these?"

"Yeah, they're like…really cool," Ron said vaguely, examining them in awe.

"I know a few people," Mr. Weasley said, winking.

Harry folded them up and set them back in the box, in case they were put in any imminent danger. Perhaps, if Ron wasn't too protective of his own, they could play in them later.

Harry reached for another box, tearing into it immediately. The rest of the family was opening their presents in a flurry of parcel paper and ribbons, moving quickly onto each one after exclamations of glee and praise. However, Harry always tried to take his time. He had only started getting used to receiving presents on holidays now. After eleven years of nothingness, it made one want to cherish the moments you were suddenly blessed with…

"Wow Harry, thanks," Bill said, chuckling and holding up the fanged necklace.

Harry laughed, nodding in his direction. It matched better than he had expected. A single rope with a single fang. Nothing too elaborate, but with all the telltale signs of a rugged Curse-Breaker. He watched as Bill tied it around his neck, making an appreciative noise.

"Oh no," Mrs. Weasley said, looking a bit disapproving. "Not another one!"

"I dunno Ron, he's buying Bill jewelry. Next thing you know, it'll be interior decorating," Fred said, laughing and dodging the empty box Harry had chucked at him.

Inside the box had been a blue knitted jumper sporting a large 'H' on the front, which he thanked Mrs. Weasley for and placed next to the robes. Harry looked over and saw that Ron was holding a small silver object, which he was questioning Charlie about.

"Yeah, but what does it do?" Ron asked, looking closely at it.

"Attracts them within a five mile radius. Probably shouldn't blow it when you're near the Swiss Alps, though. That's the general area of their mating grounds and…well…just don't do that and you'll be fine," Charlie explained, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably.

Ron brought the small whistle-like object to his lips, sucked in a breath, and blew. It made a rough sound, which oddly resembled the shrieking noise Hagrid made to summon the Thestrals last year. It was quieter, at least, and not quite so angry-sounding.

"Cool," Ron said, grinning slightly. "If I ever want to see Norbert, I'll come visit and maybe he'll fly round to bite me again. For old time's sake."

"Well actually Ron, we found out that – "

"Oi Harry, what the bloody hell are these?" Fred's voice cut into Harry's eavesdropping, making him turn to face the twins. They had unwrapped his presents to them, and were eyeing them curiously.

"Oh, here, let me show you," Harry stood and walked between them, taking the objects from their hands. "Okay, Fred give me your right hand…now George, yours…okay, now George's left hand…and Fred's…okay, now try to take them off."

The twins pulled simultaneously, their pointer fingers connected on each hand by the Chinese finger traps. Yet no matter how hard they pulled, they only succeeded in tightening the woven tubes around their fingers, unable to escape. Harry laughed as they began swearing at each other, trying to pull harder.

"How do you get them off?" George asked, clearly frustrated. They looked rather ridiculous, connected by each hand in an almost loving gesture.

"Insist that _I'm _acting queer, eh?" Harry shot, smirking. He took one of the toys, pushed it together to slacken again, and their fingers popped out easily. The identical shocked expressions on their faces only made him laugh harder.

"Weird," George said, doing the same with the other toy to free them fully. "What spell is that?"

"None. It's a muggle toy," Harry said, earning another baffled look. "Oh, and you're forbidden to use them on Ron. Everyone else is fair game."

"Thanks Harry," they said in unison, grinning a bit evilly in Bill's direction.

Good lord, what had he done…

Ignoring the possible damage he had just inadvertently inflicted on several people, Harry sat back down next to Ron on the floor. It was a good thing, too, because Ron was opening his present next.

"This one turned out pretty good," Ron said quietly, chuckling. They didn't need reliving of the whole wrapping experience…

"Then open it," Harry pressed, making a shooing motion at the present.

Ron quickly tore the inexpertly placed paper, untied the ribbon, and discarded them onto the floor before examining his gift fully.

"Oh wow…" Ron said, his blue eyes lighting up.

It was a shiny, brand new, glass chess set. Harry had picked out the most expensive, professional-looking one he could find that was worthy of Ron's spectacular skills in the game. It had several enchantments like the usual sets they played with, except these ones were trained to not shout out random pieces of advice, which Ron always hated. The pieces also never shattered, for they were under an Unbreakable Charm, and they never were able to leave more than a foot from the board. Ron had been frustrated on more than one occasion when they had discovered he was missing a Rook or a Bishop, but this would surely solve that problem.

"Harry, this is so cool," Ron said, smiling happily. His hand ghosted over the clear-and-frost checkered board, feeling the rough texture of the frosted squares and the smooth texture of the clear ones.

"The pieces fit in a drawer underneath the board," Harry said, pulling it open to show him. "And they can't get lost or break or anything, because they're enchanted."

Ron looked up at him, biting his lower lip.

"Thanks, Harry," he said, looking truly grateful. Harry thought he saw a flicker of something else reflected in those blue sapphires, but was unsure what it was exactly.

"Well, you know, I figured a really good player needs a really good set," Harry said, grinning sheepishly. "Plus, I want you to be able to play with the finest there is. If you're gonna kick my arse, at least do it with more style than everyone else."

Ron reached over and put his hand on the back of Harry's neck, pulling him closer for a kiss. He lingered, despite the fact that the whole family could probably see them. Harry could taste the sweetness of Ron's soft lips, smell the intoxicating scent of him, and felt the thumb that was slowly stroking against the scruff of his neck from Ron's hold. He couldn't help but feel that he was drowning in sweets, sugar, and everything that was good as Ron said 'thank you' with more than just his words…

But then it ended, and Ron pulled away leaving Harry almost breathless.

"I really like it," he said, grinning like a small child at…well…Christmas.

"That's good," Harry said vaguely, still recovering.

"Go on, then, open mine," Ron said, gesturing at a green one. It was small and perfectly square. Harry couldn't even imagine what it could be, but Ron looked extremely excited about it, whatever it was.

Harry picked up the small box and unwrapped it. It was also rather well done, compared to how the rest of Ron's had turned out…

But when Harry held up the clear box to see what exactly was inside, he forgot all about wrapping again.

"No way," Harry said, grinning over at Ron. There was no mistaking the telltale signs of that little golden ball, for he was trained to spot it from across the pitch in an instant.

Harry lifted the clear lid and pulled out the Snitch, turning it over in his hands. Its silvery wings flicked out immediately and began lazily fluttering, not really trying to fly, but acknowledging his existence nonetheless. He looked closer to see the small words etched into the metal surface, right at the center between the wings:

_Harry Potter_

"It's a practice Snitch," Ron said, looking over his shoulder. "It acts like a normal one, but then you can call it back to you when you're done playing. I figured, you know, it's a bit more personal than just using the school's all the time. And this one won't get slower with age, since it's already got your touch memorized and all. I think, with all the people using the practice ones at the school, it gets confused or something from all the – "

Harry kissed Ron this time, breaking off his sentence. Holding the fluttering Snitch tightly to his chest, Harry wondered if that was why his heart felt like it suddenly had wings of its own.

"Thanks," Harry said, pulling away and not bothering to hold back his smile. "I really like it."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note Again: <strong>Alrighty, so let's see here...if you guys can get me at least 100 reviews (5 to go), then I will write a one-shot on any pair you guys want. You can suggest it in the review, in a PM, I don't care. I will select one, maybe two if the inspiration strikes me. You can make the suggestions as outrageous as you want. They can be weird, canon, or even hetero. I won't judge you. ;) Oh! Also, Chapter 1 of my new story, which is a sort of spin-off from this one, will be coming out pretty soon. I'm not saying anything, but it may or may not be the Seamus/Dean fic you guys keep bugging me about. I just sort of have to figure out what the hell to name it first...

So, that little blue number beside the yellow bubble better read 100 by the time I get back! Don't make me turn this car around!


	22. Christmas: Part 3

**Author's Note: **Ugh. This chapter is SO long. It runs at about 32 pages, and these chapters usually run at about 11, so it's almost 3 times the size. Or Whatever. It's winter break, shut up. Anyways, about this one. The amount of kink in here gets a bit...interesting towards the end. I don't know what's wrong with me. I suppose I've done worse in other fics, but still. You'll see what I'm talking about soon enough.

* * *

><p>They both jumped and jerked apart when a loud shattering noise echoed through the living room. Harry's head whipped around to see Ginny standing in the doorway, her cheeks flaming red and almost matching her hair. A broken glass, leaking what looked like milk, lay on the floor at her feet.<p>

"Sorry," she mumbled, stooping to pick up the pieces.

Harry could see that she looked completely embarrassed. Debating for a second whether it would make it worse, or actually help, he resolved to assist her. None of the other brothers seemed to even care, let alone offer to help, so he figured he would be the only one who would try to show some form of decency. He stumbled to his feet and walked over, being careful of his bare feet as he approached the broken glass.

"Gin, I can do it, if you go get a towel or something?" Harry muttered, leaning down next to her.

Their faces hovered by each other, both of them in an awkward position as they bent over, and her cheeks only seemed to darken at his offer. He probably should have stayed sitting and pretended it never happened, like the others. Well, it was too late now. Harry thought he saw a flicker of sadness reflected in her brown eyes as she stared at him.

"Thanks," she said quietly, straightening up and disappearing slowly into the kitchen.

Shaking his head and resolving that he would never understand women, Harry crouched down and carefully picked up as many broken shards as he could find. He supposed he had even _less_ of a chance of understanding girls now, being gay and all.

"Oh, Harry thank you!" Mrs. Weasley said from her spot on the sofa. "The bin is under the sink, dear."

"Do you want to repair it?" Harry asked, offering his outstretched hand for her to see the damage.

"Oh, no dear, we have a hundred of those old things," she said, waving her hand.

Harry nodded and wandered into the kitchen as well. There was no sign of Ginny, which confused him slightly, but perhaps there weren't any towels in here. He walked over to the sink and deposited the remains of the glass into the bin.

On his way back to the sitting room, Harry just happened to look out the kitchen window and see a very familiar figure walking up the drive. He had brown hair flecked with bits of grey that, even from here, were clearly visible. He also had a few scars across his face, a telltale sign of the rough life he had lived. Not to mention his unfortunate condition. But Harry's face lit up and he rushed out the door before the man had even made it to the house.

"Lupin!" Harry shouted as he ran up the long stretch of road.

Lupin waved cheerily, though he looked weatherworn. The snow was deep, and his coat was shabby as usual.

"Hi Harry," he said warmly as Harry approached, pulling him close for a gruff hug. "Happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas," Harry replied. They separated and he reached out to Lupin's briefcase, offering to take it for him. "I can get it, if you – "

"Oh no you don't," the older man said, narrowing his eyes and smirking.

Harry stared back, confused.

"Your present is in here. Among a few others," Lupin clarified.

Harry laughed, raising his hands in defense. "Fair enough."

They walked back up to the house, moving more slowly. Harry was regretting coming outside without a cloak. It was bloody cold, and he could see his breath coming out in short mists. Though, perhaps the toothpaste was still in effect from earlier.

But as they walked, and as Harry looked up, he couldn't help notice how beautiful the Burrow looked in the winter. They had Apparated inside the house upon his own arrival, so he hadn't got to see it from this angle. Snow hung from the roof elegantly, making it look like a very elaborate and quite tall gingerbread house, with random wings added on later. It portrayed all the warmth and friendliness inside, somehow, despite the coldness outside. What it didn't portray were the raunchy happenings in the small room at the very top. The small window at the peak of the house looked down at him cheerily, not giving the slightest impression that only eight hours ago, Harry had felt warm hands running all over his body, caressing him in the most intimate of ways, rough fingers griping him tightly as he was slowly pleasured in the night. And again by a hot mouth this morning.

He shivered, though it had nothing to do with the cold anymore.

They entered the kitchen, and the center of his attention greeted him, almost as if he knew he were being thought of.

"Hi Harry," Ron said, smiling at his sudden appearance. "How come you were outs – oh, hi Lupin."

"Hello," Lupin said, waving again. "Not too late, am I?"

"No, we just opened most of them, but some people are still on a few," Ron said, pointing to the living room.

The three of them padded back to where all the commotion was, hearing exclamations of delight as more presents were unwrapped. When Lupin stepped through the door, everyone greeted him enthusiastically, to which he did his best to reciprocate.

Mrs. Weasley guided him over to an armchair, next to which sat his own slightly smaller pile of parcels, and took his gifts around the room to their respectful recipients.

"Wow, thanks for this, Harry!" Charlie said, holding up a small moving model of a dragon. Harry had seen it in the shop, and it had reminded of his own back at the dorm from the Triwizard Tournament. It moved and imitated the real thing, just like his figure of the Hungarian Horntail.

"What kind is it?" Bill asked, leaning over his brother's shoulder.

"It's a Portuguese Long-Snout! These are bloody extinct, I didn't think they even made models of these!" Charlie enthused, turning the small dragon over in his hands to examine it. It flopped onto its back, snarling slightly at being manhandled. "This is _so _cool."

"Those would make nice gloves," Bill said, grinning mischievously.

"You're the reason they're gone, you twat," Charlie snapped, glaring over his shoulder. "Making bloody clothes out of everything."

"Oi, don't get your knickers in a twist," Bill taunted. "At least _some_ people had some decent dragon hide before they went extinct, so they didn't go to waste, right?"

Charlie launched himself at Bill so fast that Harry barely saw it. The ensuing brawl caused Mrs. Weasley to shout "BOYS!" and everyone else to laugh. They toppled to the ground, the older brother cackling while the younger wrestled with him to gain the upper hand.

"I'll cut that ponytail off and knit you a jumper, then we'll see who likes being made into clothes!" Charlie said, rolling on top of Bill and drawing his wand.

Mrs. Weasley faltered in her efforts to stop them. She stayed back, claiming that they could sort it out themselves.

After the small fight (in which Bill's hair survived), they opened the rest of the presents and chatted lazily about how things were currently going with Lupin. Apparently he had infiltrated Fenrir Greyback's wolf pack, which was proving to be highly dangerous. It looked like it was taking quite a toll on the wizard, despite the fact that his condition already did that for him. After patting him on the shoulder and telling him that he was always welcome at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley stood and headed off to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Harry saw Ron eyeing his chessboard longingly.

"Want to break it in?" Harry asked, scooting so that he was facing him.

"Yeah," Ron said, grinning "You know me too well."

"You're not that hard to figure out," Harry teased, crinkling his nose in a fake sneer.

Ron set up the pieces with expert hands, knowing from years of practice where they went exactly. He was barely even glancing up at the board before he moved to set the next one in its rightful place. If only wizard's chess were a job in the wizarding world, Ron would be set for life.

"Which d'you want to play?" Ron asked, looking up expectantly.

"Black," Harry answered immediately.

"There's a surprise."

"Er…which one_ is_ that, anyway?" Harry asked, confused. He hadn't thought ahead about which color would be which type of glass. Was the white glass white, or was it black because it was more solid than the clear?

Ron chuckled. "Frosted is black, clear is white."

"Right," Harry said sheepishly, turning the board around so that each boy had his rightful color.

Ron moved his first piece.

Harry lost in ten moves.

"This is so cool!" Ron said, despite the fact that the game was over. "I love how nice it looks! And when that pawn was knocked down, there wasn't even a scratch on him! And the way they move is so smooth and just…agh! I can't take it!"

Ron flopped back to lie on the floor, clutching his own red hair in both hands. Harry laughed, seeing the smile on his face as he prattled on about the features of the new set. At least he was enjoying his present, despite not having anyone decent to play with. It was a pretty nice board, too, Harry had to admit. He felt pride in his selecting abilities.

"Breakfast!" came a call from the kitchen, and everyone stood to go indulge in the savory cooking of Mrs. Weasley.

When they entered the kitchen, there were sausages, eggs, bacon, pancakes, several types of cereal, and toast spread out on the long table. Tiny jars of marmalade, jam, peanut butter, sugar, cinnamon, and syrup also floated elegantly in the center. Harry had never seen a table so well decorated before, and that included Hogwarts, which was saying something. Everything was accented in green and red, indicating the obvious special occasion. If this was breakfast, what was _dinner_ going to look like?

Harry sat, his mouth agape, next to Lupin, who also appeared quite impressed. Ron sat on Harry's other side, looking nonchalant.

"Molly, this is quite a spread," Lupin said, admiring the small floating jars. Harry assumed they were suspended in the air so that everyone could reach them better.

Mrs. Weasley waved he hand, smiling warmly.

"It was nothing, Remus. Just a bit of fun for the holidays," she said.

"It looks really cool, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said, poking one of the jars near him. It wobbled slightly, and then centered again where it had previously been.

"Thank you, Harry dear," she replied cheerily.

Everyone tucked in, looking ravenous. Perhaps it was the excess of warm food, or the excess of mead last night that had them so ready to eat plentiful amounts. Harry could smell the bacon, and it made his mouth nearly water.

Just then, Ginny walked in, coming back from wherever she had gone before. Harry wondered why she was glaring at Ron. He also wondered why Ron looked guilty.

"Something happen?" Harry muttered as he waited for the eggs to make their way round.

Ron shook his head, shrugging.

The rest of breakfast passed pleasantly. They all chatted about their presents, exchanging numerous thanks again from the recipients to the givers. Harry thanked Fred and George for their gift, as well as asked what the hell his present actually was.

"New line in the works," Fred said, grinning.

"We er…haven't put it up on shelves yet, technically speaking," George added.

"But we figured, since you got us started, you deserve to have special privileges and can see the products before they're available to the general public."

"You know," Harry said, raising an eyebrow, "It sounds an awful lot like I'm more of a guinea pig here than just being 'privileged'…"

"Why Harry!" George said in mock outrage. "We would never!"

"Quite right!" Fred added, slapping a hand over his heart. "Merlin forbid! True, the products haven't necessarily been deemed _safe_ yet, but I'm sure there's nothing – "

"Merlin on a stick!" Ron said angrily. He threw an arm around Harry's middle, pulling him awkwardly backward in what he guessed was a protective gesture. "You're gonna kill him, you heathens!"

"Aw, look at that, Fred," George said, tilting his head to the side lovingly.

"No testing things on him!" Ron declared, pointing his finger accusingly over Harry's shoulder. "Like you said, he got you two started in the first place! That's not on!"

A flicker of guilt, identical of course, flashed over their faces at oddly the same time. It was creepy when they did that without even trying.

"We were just joking anyways, ickle Ronnikins," Fred stated, snapping back to his old mischievous self.

"Yeah, we tested them on ourselves, and only got _mild _burns so far. Should be spot on after a bit of tweaking and all."

"Where are the burns?" Harry asked, looking them up and down.

"Er…rather not say…"

The rest of breakfast passed with the twins remaining fairly quiet.

* * *

><p>"Galvin Gudgeon nearly has the Snitch! He's hot on its tail, so to speak, and has it cornered by the apple barrels! What will happen next? Will Gudgeon finally win for the team after a straight losing streak of sixteen games with this one catch? Will he end the Chudley Cannons' misery and finally bring a shimmer of hope to their loving fans? I think that maybe…yes…maybe he's got it! He's closing in! <em>Can<em> Gudgeon make it? NOOOO! The Snitch escapes by a hair, flying low enough to avoid the outstretched hand of our beloved Seeker! Gudgeon scours the field for his missed target, appearing to have lost sight of the Snitch in his failure. Ah yes, he's giving an unpleasant two-fingered solute to your announcer! I do believe he has lost it! What do you make of this, Jim?"

"Well Darrel, as I see it, the Cannons don't stand a chance when their Seeker appears far too busy making rude signs, rather than concerning himself with the Snitch. But as we speak, the opposing Chaser is closing in on the Cannons' beloved Keeper, Malhov Egoroff! Perhaps he can make up for the difference while Gudgeon continues his search. As the Chaser gains ground, Egoroff steels himself for the impact of the Quaffle. Egoroff wrapped up his last game by blocking a total of two goals out of seventy-six, causing his team to lose by eight-hundred-and-ninety points, the largest margin in history! But no matter, for it only broke the last record, which was previously set by the Cannons anyways! Chaser draws back to strike, aiming at the makeshift goal posts and incidentally Egoroff himself. Can he block it in time when opposing Ginevra's quick hand? Will he be fast enough to prevent her from scoring? AND HE DOES! EGOROFF BLOCKS THE GOAL!"

"Fred! George! Shut UP!"

"Some of the spectators seem to be gaining in hostility, Jim. Perhaps because they are so unused to this level of performance…"

"I agree, Darrel, it is quite a mark in history. After years of bottoming on the charts, the Cannons seem to be demonstrating enough skill to rival that of the Hogwarts Gryffindor Quidditch team!"

"Oi! I'm not above killing you two!"

Harry laughed, shaking his head at the argument below. His violent orange Quidditch robes, with the name 'Galvin Gudgeon' splashed across the back in bold black lettering, were whipping wildly in the rushing wind. He zoomed across the orchard, looking for his brand new practice Snitch that Ron had given him only a few hours ago. He was already starting to like it. It seemed to be giving him a greater challenge than the practice Snitches back at the school. Perhaps it was because it was his very own. Or, perhaps the color orange had a negative effect on a wizard's Quidditch skills. It would certainly explain the Cannons' performance…

But Ron had blocked yet another goal from Ginny, despite the slight ferocity she seemed to have whenever she was aiming for the makeshift rings that Bill had fastened to the trees. It almost seemed as if Ginny were trying to hit something more than the goals, however…

"OUCH!"

Harry whipped around, his chest clenching. That tone of voice coming from Ron's mouth had given him an almost violent surge of panic, causing his eyes to lock on the identical set of robes across the field.

"Ginny, _what_ is your problem!"

"It was an accident!"

"Yeah right! You hit me on purpose!"

"Oh, man-up!"

"Fuck you!"

"No, fuck _you_!" she shouted hysterically. Harry saw her ponytail whip about as she turned on her broom and zoomed off toward the Burrow. Apparently the game was over.

Harry flew over to Ron and landed. He was standing in the snow, having already dismounted, and was clutching his elbow with his opposite hand. Harry could hear Charlie and Bill land behind him. They had been watching from the air, while Fred and George took it upon themselves to commentate from the ground. He could hear jogging footsteps crunching through the snow as they made their way over as well.

"Is it broken?" Bill asked, taking out his wand. Harry had never seen him so business-like before. Only a few hours ago Harry had watched him unwrap a fang necklace to match his fanged earring, and then continue to talk about his new dragon-hide boots.

Ron's bright blue eyes were shining a bit, tears obviously threatening to break free.

"I dunno…I heard a noise that didn't sound very good," he said, sounding shaky but angry at the same time.

"Let me see," Bill took Ron's forearm, which he reluctantly surrendered. He bent it out slowly, clearly testing if it was able to work properly.

"Ow…ow…OUCH!" Ron shouted, recoiling.

"Sorry," Bill said sheepishly. "I think his elbow's fractured. Char, you should do it, you repair bones all the time."

Charlie nodded, drawing his own wand. "My own, even. Hold still, Ron, it won't hurt or anything."

"Okay – "

"_Episkey!"_

Ron shivered. Harry remembered the feeling of the spell. The extreme cold, followed by intense warmth. However, it appeared to have subsided, and Ron's elbow was fully functional again. He let his arm down, flexing his fingers to no doubt get rid of the strange sensation.

"Thanks," Ron said, his head bowed slightly.

"No problem."

Harry noticed that his brothers all looked away when Ron quickly wiped his eyes with his other hand.

"What happened?" Harry asked, wanting desperately to give Ron a kiss or a hug. _Something_. It seemed weird, though, when they would be in the center of a circle of Weasleys.

"I swear she did it on purpose. She was going mad the whole game," Ron said angrily, looking up again. "Probably would've knocked my head off if my arm hadn't taken the blow."

"Why would she do that?" Harry asked, puzzled.

The other brothers looked uncomfortable again, and Ron just shrugged. No one said anything.

"Am I missing something here?" he added, feeling quite put out.

"Well, I think that Ginny was…you know…" Ron said uncomfortably.

"She's just jealous, mate," Fred interrupted, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Jealous?" Harry said slowly.

"Blimey, you _are_ centered on blokes," George muttered. "Okay, you know how Ginny did all that embarrassing stuff when she had a crush on you, and then she just sort of gave up?"

"I guess," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, she probably didn't give up, mate," George continued. "She's like mum. Always manipulating the boys around her to get things how she wants them. With mum, it's just guilt trips and sweets and stuff like that. But with Ginny…well…she uses other things."

"Womanly wiles, for instance," Charlie said bluntly. All the redheads, including Charlie himself, cringed after he said it though.

"Wait, but I thought she was dating Dean," Harry said, feeling extremely confused.

"Apparently they broke up the day before holiday," Bill said. "She was completely upset about it. Told me first thing when we got home."

Ron looked up quickly at his oldest brother, his eyes wide for only a moment before he looked back down and began examining his newly healed arm again.

"Plus, I think her dating him was just to sort of…well…you know. Try and make _you_ jealous. You know?" Charlie said uncomfortably.

They all stood around, shifting uneasily with the conversation. Harry couldn't help but feel like a gossipy bitch.

"Well, what do I do?" Harry said, looking sadly over at Ron.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Harry, I'm fine. She's just angry because she doesn't have what she wants for once. But I…I like you, and I don't want you to feel bad, so just let me deal with it, alright?"

"Alright," Harry sighed, slumping his shoulders. Yet again, he had caused trouble in Ron's life, and only for his own gain.

"Besides, it's worth it," Ron added, his cheeks turning pink immediately after he spoke.

Harry looked up and stared into those bright blue eyes. They were always so reflective in the sunlight.

"Er…look at that over there…" George said, inching away from the semi-circle.

Fred wandered after him, muttering something incoherent.

Silence.

"What mum?" Charlie shouted to no one in the distance. "Yeah, we'll be right up! C'mon Bill."

"But I didn't hear – "

"Shut up."

Charlie dragged him off, the older of the two protesting greatly as he was manhandled down the slope. Soon their voices faded, and Harry and Ron were left alone.

"I realize my family is a subtle as the Giant Squid, and for that, I apologize," Ron said exasperatedly.

Harry chuckled and walked forward, finally giving Ron the kiss he had wanted to since he landed. It didn't escape his notice that Ron's tongue slipped into his mouth quickly, though he couldn't find it in himself mind. They snogged briefly, which was beginning to escalate as usual until Harry struggled away enough to speak.

"Is your arm okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. Sore, but not broken anymore," Ron replied, bringing it up in front of him.

"You want me to kiss it?" Harry asked, half-joking.

"I think my elbow will survive," Ron smirked. He leaned in closer, as if they were hugging and _not _whispering to each other, which only foretold less-than-gentlemanly words. He could feel soft lips on his skin and Ron running his hands through Harry's already windswept hair. He mumbled next to Harry's cheek as he said "I can think of something _else_ you can kiss though. It would make me feel a lot better…"

"Mm, and what would that be?" Harry asked, his eyes closing. He knew full well what the answer was, but Ron was ruffling the back of his hair in a delightful way, and it felt quite relaxing…

"My cock. It gets hard for you in those Cannons robes," Ron said lowly. His breath tickled Harry's ear, and the fingers threading through his hair tightened a bit.

"I think Galvin Gudgeon might be able to handle it for you later then," Harry said back. He pulled away, regrettably breaking Ron's hold on his hair. "But unfortunately, he's starving at the moment, and freezing his arse off."

"Well we don't bloody want to lose that!" Ron said, slapping it to make his point. Harry jumped, laughing, and headed for his broom. He didn't fancy trudging up to the house and getting his new robes all soaked from the snow.

Extracting his broom from where it had fallen in his hurry, Harry mounted it and rose up in the air, Ron not far behind.

Moments later, they entered the kitchen, just as Mrs. Weasley was preparing to head outside.

"Oh, Ron! Are you alright?" she fussed, seizing his arm quickly.

"Ouch, mum, yes, it was just a small break – "

"It was _broken_?" she said in a pitch to be reckoned with.

"Yes, but it's okay – "

"No it most certainly is not. GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY!"

"Oh no," Ron muttered, closing his eyes in a foreboding way. His elbow was raised awkwardly, being held in what looked to be an inescapable grip by his mother. Harry tried not to laugh.

Ron gave a murderous look to his brothers, clearly angry at them for having told. Harry didn't know why. He felt that, if Ginny had done it on purpose, then she should rightfully be put on the spot for it. His anger burned in a highly protective way for the object of his affections. More so than he had ever felt for anyone before, despite his 'saving people thing', as Hermione so elegantly put it. Harry of course wanted to protect everyone who had dared give a damn about his existence, but Ron was…different.

Mrs. Weasley dropped Ron's arm after giving it a thorough examination. Harry had seen him wincing when she prodded the tip of his elbow with her wand, but otherwise he was apparently fit enough for release. His arm dropped to his side, and Harry slipped his hand into Ron's almost immediately after. He thought he saw a small smile grace Ron's lips.

"GINNY!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed, causing them to jump.

Her footsteps echoed up the stairs, no doubt in order to forcibly retrieve Ginny herself, and they all hastily turned to making sandwiches for lunch. They never saw Ginny, but there had indeed been a lot of muffled shouting coming from the ceiling…

* * *

><p>"Oh Harry, there's no need to do that."<p>

Harry turned from the sink to see Mr. Weasley standing in the doorway.

"I don't mind," Harry said, shrugging. He had taken all the sandwich plates, which had been stacked up haphazardly on the counter top, and was washing them under a mild flow from the faucet.

"Yes, but one of the other boys can do it," he said, looking a bit exasperatedly back towards the sitting room. Everyone was playing with their new gifts, shouting and laughing loudly, and Ron had gone to the loo.

"It's okay," Harry said, chuckling. "I do it for the Dursleys all the time. It's not like I'm out of practice."

Mr. Weasley smiled back, but it looked a bit pained.

"Well, thank you Harry," he said sincerely. "I hope you realize how much we've enjoyed having you here for Christmas so far. We always enjoy having you, but I'm sure you know that."

"Thanks," Harry grinned, "I like being here."

"Yes, well, don't let Ron skive off helping you. Oh, and thank you for the light bulbs! I'll have to sneak away to do some examining later…"

"No problem," Harry said, laughing and turning back to dry the plates. He heard the door close behind him, muffling the noise of the talking in the next room.

Harry sighed, heaving the stack of clean plates off the counter to carry back over to the table. If only the Dursleys had been even half of what Ron's parents were, maybe his life would have turned out differently. If his parents were still alive, or if he had been sent to a family that actually wanted him in their presence, who didn't scoff or grimace every time he walked into the room, maybe _he_ would have turned out different as well. He could be more…trusting of people. More happy. But then, he did trust Ron, and Hermione, and everyone at the Burrow and at Hogwarts. He was glad to have all of them in his life now. Well, except the Slytherins, but who gave a fuck anyways. But all of the people he had now in this world, who actually wished to be acquainted with him, had shown him things he hadn't known existed. Magic, for starters. But kindness as well. The feeling that someone _could _look upon him without immediate hate filling their eyes. The feeling of actually being accepted into the lives of others, and that he wasn't some intruder who no one wanted around. And that was all that a sad little boy locked away in a cupboard could ask for, really. For at least one person to care. To hear his lonely sniffling when life got to be too much for him.

But for what seemed like an eternity, no one had, and Harry would never have believed that he would one day end up like this. With a family that was willing to take him in for the holidays when he had nowhere else to go. A family that actually gave him_ presents, _and didn't send him away in order for them to celebrate properly on their own, or because he was marked a 'freak'. A family that loved him and accepted him without judgment of his past, treating him very much like one of their own children…

Harry smiled slightly, thinking of how lucky he really was. If doing dishes was the only way he could repay them, then it was a task he was all too happy to do.

His foot caught one of the legs on a chair and he wobbled dangerously. His quick reflexes allowed him to save himself, and most of the dishes. Unfortunately, the top plate didn't make it.

_Smash._

Growling in frustration, Harry dropped to his knees and started picking up shards. Again.

"This family's not gonna have any bloody dishes left if I keep on like this…" Harry muttered, swiping his hand over the wooden floor to make sure he had got them all. Hopefully no one would walk through here in bare feet, but he didn't know if that would be a real concern or not.

He stood, put the shards in the bin, and returned to the stack of plates. As he carried them to one of the cupboards, he gave the table a wide berth so as to not nearly trip again. Harry raised them up and eased them into the cupboard on the top shelf, bending slightly over the counter in order to reach.

"You have to quit doing that," Ron said sternly. He sounded awfully close.

Harry meant to turn around quickly in surprise, not having heard him even enter the kitchen. But a body pressing against him from behind, trapping him against the counter, prevented him from making such a startled move.

"Doing what?" Harry asked confusedly.

"Making me so hard all the time," Ron said against his neck. Harry shivered slightly as Ron's breath ghosted over his skin.

He felt rough hands running along his sides, taking advantage of his vulnerable position. They worked under his shirt where it rode up slightly, ruffled so much from dallying around the kitchen. Harry whimpered quietly when Ron's hands started moving towards the front of his jeans. Ron's mouth was trailing up the side of Harry's neck, placing small bites, making him feel hot all of a sudden. His breathing faltered when Ron's fingertips skimmed so lightly across his skin. It tickled, but in a not-so-innocent way.

He whimpered again as his eyes fell on a jar on the counter, filled with none other than…peppermint sticks.

Harry felt himself harden at the recollection of Hogwarts. Before he had admitted his desire for Ron. The sadistic House-Elf that had sent up the small jars of peppermint sticks at every meal. The way Ron would suck on them with a bit too much slurping and licking, his pink tongue darting out to trail erotically up the small pole. Working it over thoroughly, as if he knew what Harry was thinking. As if he knew that Harry desperately wanted to _be _that particular holiday candy. As if he knew that Harry wanted his cock sucked exactly like that sugary little red-and-white stick.

Now he knew what that candy felt like, however. He had been at the mercy of Ron's mouth just this morning…

Harry moaned slightly, feeling Ron's rough fingertips work just under the edge of his jeans in the front. Enough to play idly with the small black hairs there, but not nearly enough to touch Harry where he really wanted it. Those calloused fingers brushed teasingly along his skin, while Ron's tongue darted out to lick just below his ear. That tongue that had done so many things to him already. The tongue that had brought him to orgasm so many times. The tongue that made him hard just thinking about it. Harry closed his eyes, whining and feeling that hot breath that tickled his skin. Ron's breathing was quickening, and his hands were getting more daring, slipping lower into Harry's underwear. If they went just another inch or so –

"Harry, are you alright? I thought I heard something break in here – "

Ron's mouth immediately left his neck as he looked around at the voice, Harry mimicking his actions.

Lupin stood there, his face a bit red. Harry didn't think he had _ever _seen Lupin blush before, and this was certainly not a time he wanted to see it first. Ron backed up slightly, rubbing a hand through his red hair, and Harry pushed away from the counter.

Apparently, in the happiness following the revelation of their secret, Harry had forgotten that there was someone else to tell…

Wringing the towel in his hands, placing it strategically in front of his rapidly softening erection, Harry looked up at the scarred man who had just walked in on his best friend's son being felt-up by another boy. This was like those shows that Aunt Petunia used to watch. Everyone was either gay, underage, or revealing that they had amnesia. Harry guessed that two out of three was quite an accomplishment on his end, and perhaps the trauma from this event would bring him the third as well.

"Er…hi Lupin," Ron said sheepishly, breaking the horrible silence that had descended.

"Hello Ron," he said vaguely.

"Okay, so I guess it's a bit obvious that we forgot to tell you something," Harry said, regaining the ability to speak.

"Yes, that seems…er…apparent."

"So…er…me and Ron are…erm…together. Like, you know. More than friends. Obviously," Harry said, grimacing.

"I…I see," Lupin said, looking uncomfortable.

"Is that…er…okay?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Well…yes…I mean, if that's what you…what makes you happy, Harry, then of course. I just…hadn't really expected such a surprise," he ran a hand through his grey-flecked hair, looking a bit older than he had before. "Ron, I'm sorry, but do you mind if Harry and I speak alone, just for a moment?" Lupin asked, sounding confused, but politely so.

Ron looked warily over at Harry, who nodded. Harry didn't know what this meant exactly. Was he about to get told off or something? Lupin was the only remaining tie to his father left. What if he felt obligated to parent him in this situation? Would they have to talk alone if it were for any other reason? God, the thought of having a row with Lupin was…frightening…

The man was a bit intimidating at times.

Ron gave him a swift kiss on the lips and walked slowly out the door, giving Harry one last look before he closed it behind him.

Harry felt a bit foreboding as Lupin gestured for him to sit at the table.

"So, Harry. You're…you and Ron are having a…relationship?" Lupin asked slowly.

Harry nodded, not knowing exactly what else to say.

"A fairly intimate one, I'm guessing by the look of it?"

Harry cringed, and nodded again.

"Well, as you know, I have suffered a great deal of prejudice myself, so I'm not judging you, Harry," he said, smiling slightly. Lupin walked around and sat across from him at the scrubbed wooden table. His scars were slightly visible in the glow from the hanging light above them, silvery in appearance due to their magical nature.

Harry nodded once more, realizing that Lupin had been discriminated against more than anyone here.

"And I do trust that you…" Lupin sighed, "You know what you're doing, yes?"

"Yes," Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "Wait, what do you mean?"

"You're sure that you and Ron are…on the same footing?" he said awkwardly.

"Oh. I think so," Harry fiddled with the towel in his hands, twisting it idly.

"And, er, where is that, exactly?"

"Well, you know. We're dating and stuff, like any normal couple…" Harry didn't look up. He could feel the blush heating his own face.

"And Ron isn't…moving too fast for you?" Lupin asked quickly.

"Er…no," Harry said, confused. "I don't think so."

"It just seemed that…when I, er, entered, he was a bit…forward towards you," Lupin said, sounding mortified. "And I know that, what with the tragedy in your life, you haven't had many…adults there to assist you in the ways of…physical attractions, and the like."

"Oh god," Harry said, closing his eyes. "Please, don't – "

"Now Harry, I'm not entirely thrilled about it either, but has anyone ever even _talked_ to you about this?" Lupin pressed. "Have they told you what to do when…when dealing with these things?"

"No," Harry said in a small voice. His cheeks were ablaze with humiliation. Of course no one had talked to him about it. Ron was the only one who he even remotely discussed these things with. No one else had given enough of a damn about him to even give a brief glimpse into the world of sex. All he had before was wanking, and that damn magazine. But he had gone through the whole experience already, just last night, so Lupin was running a bit late on the lecture this time.

"Well, I'm afraid with males, I'm not too experienced on the matter," Lupin started. He had the air that this was going to be a very long, very uncomfortable talk, and Harry felt as though he should head him off before he even got started.

"We've already done it," Harry blurted, hating this entire conversation. "We've already…h-had sex, and everything…"

Lupin looked surprised. "Ah. I see."

"So…yeah."

"Well…was he…I mean to say…was it…alright, then?" Lupin asked, apparently searching for the right words.

"Yes," Harry muttered, staring intently at the white towel. "I…I liked it, and everything, if that's what you're asking…"

"And he wasn't too forceful?" Lupin said, sounding more and more like a professor every time he opened his mouth. "He didn't take advantage of you in any way at all?"

"No," Harry said, sinking down in his chair so that his face was buried in the towel now. His forehead hit the table with a dull _thump_. "He was gentle. He walked me through it," Harry spoke into the white cloth.

"And he hasn't been pushing you to…to do things you don't want to do, right?" Lupin said firmly.

Harry shook his head, not wanting to look up. "Ron would never do that," his muffled voice replied.

"Well Harry, I didn't think so, but…well…I'm sure you know that I care very much about your safety and…I just wanted to be sure," Lupin said quietly. Harry felt a firm hand on his shoulder and he looked up. Lupin was smiling in a fatherly way, which was a bit comforting after the unusual conversation they had just gone through.

"Thanks," Harry said, sitting up straighter now that he wasn't so embarrassed.

"I only wish that you had someone…well…closer to you, so that you could go to them instead. But I suppose you'll have to deal with the decrepit werewolf for now," he said, chuckling.

"You're not old," Harry said, grinning. "Just…experienced in the world."

"Thanks," Lupin said sarcastically.

He patted Harry on the shoulder and walked back into the sitting room to join the others. About ten seconds later, Ron walked back in through the other door by the stairs.

"Wow," Ron said through the peppermint stick that was hanging out of his mouth. "That was weird."

"What?" Harry asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I was listening," Ron shrugged. He ignored Harry's look of horror and said in a cooing voice, "I did like how you said I was _gentle_, though."

"Shut up."

"Want me to walk you through a kiss?" he taunted.

Harry launched forward, but Ron dodged to the side and ran around the table. Harry laughed, running to the other side, but Ron copied his movements and moved to oppose him. His sapphire eyes shone in a challenge, a smirk on his face to confirm it as they stared each other down. Harry tried to use his quick reflexes to get around the table faster, but Ron kept up with him, preventing him from the rightful tackling that should have been taking place. Finally, Harry jumped up on one of the chairs and clambered over table, seizing a fistful of Ron's shirt. Ron tried to run, and ended up dragging him off the wooden surface and onto the floorboards.

"Ouch!" Harry said, holding his head where it had bumped the floor.

"Harry?" Ron said, a hint of panic in his voice.

Harry didn't look up, still clutching at the sore spot. He heard Ron run the few steps back to him and felt a hand in his hair.

"Are you okay? Blimey, I didn't mean to – Argh!"

Ron fell to his knees as Harry pulled him down, laughing at the sound he had made. Ron was too easy to fool…

"You little arse!" he said, laughing and clearly having realized that Harry was uninjured. He began trying to crawl past him to the door.

The peppermint stick dropped in the tussle. It clattered lightly next to Harry's head as he was dragged along the floorboards on his back, still gripping Ron's shirt. He could see a lovely expanse of Ron's smooth skin as he yanked the jumper to try and stop him.

Just then, the door clicked, and Harry and Ron paused to look up at the intruder. It was open and revealing an unimpressed Fred Weasley. He looked down at them on the floor and raised an eyebrow.

"If you're done, mum needs to start making dinner," he said, and then closed the door again.

They stared at it for a moment, making sure that it was closed for good.

Ron leaned down suddenly and crashed his lips to Harry's. They snogged merrily on the floor, Harry's legs opening to tuck against the breathtaking boy above him. They were breathing heavy from the struggle, and Harry could feel the warmth of Ron's skin through his jumper. Ron's hands gripped his sides, touching the bare skin revealed by his low-riding jeans. Harry moaned slightly at the gesture. His erection stirred back to life as Ron nibbled his lower lip and thrust down against him at the same time.

But all too soon, Mrs. Weasley loudly announced that she was coming in, and they had to hurriedly stand and right their clothing. Ron's face was a bit flushed, and Harry didn't doubt his own was as well, but hopefully she wouldn't notice.

"Oh, thank you, Harry!" she said as he was walking towards the door, obviously having noticed the dishes were done.

"Oh, it was no – " but his response was cut off by the forceful hug he had been pulled into. Panicking, Harry kept their middles from touching. He couldn't begin to explain how uncomfortable it was hugging Ron's mother while sporting an erection.

"Now you go and relax! You're the guest!" Mrs. Weasley said, releasing him and ushering him towards the door again. "I do hope you at least _helped_ him with the dishes," she shot at Ron.

"Er…"

When they finally sat down in two cushy armchairs, Harry sighed. He had had his fill of uncomfortable encounters for the day. What with Bill catching them this morning, Ginny's strange attitude, Ron's broken arm, Lupin's 'talk', and the hug two seconds ago, Harry just wanted to sit and do nothing so that his hard-on would finally disappear. Just thinking of everything made him begin to soften rapidly…

"Oi, where's my thing?" Ron said, looking around him as if he had dropped something.

"What thing?"

"My…the peppermint…"

Oh no.

"You dropped it," Harry said, hoping that would solve the matter.

"Aw no," Ron whined, heaving himself out of the chair again.

Harry's only hope now was that Mrs. Weasley would say it was too close to dinner for him to be having sweets. After all, it was already…two hours past noon. Damn.

Ron plopped back down in his chair, kicking a leg over one of the arms as he unwrapped another peppermint stick. Harry still couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose, or if Ron was completely oblivious to the symbolization. Harry assumed it was the latter, due to how much Ron loved sweets in the first place. Plus, the innocent way he popped it into his mouth was just too adorable…and it made Harry insanely randy.

He closed his eyes as the slurping noises started up. Well, there went his hopes of going through the evening erection-free…

"Oi Ron, up for a rematch? I saw that new chess set, it looks pretty cool," Bill said as he wandered into the room.

"Okay," Ron said, probably with a bit more enthusiasm than he meant to let on.

Ron stood, again, and retrieved the board from underneath the chair where he slid it before breakfast. Harry sat back and watched, glad that he didn't have to be the one defeated miserably this time. He listened to the lazy conversations scattered around the room, enjoying the feel of warmth that slowly crept over him. Well, there was always a certain cozy feeling whenever he stayed at the Burrow, but now especially, on Christmas day, with the smell of delicious food wafting from the kitchen. Harry settled back and propped his elbow on the arm of the chair. He felt extremely happy just being where he was.

Parcel paper still littered the floor from this morning, creating a sea of bright colors with random bits of ribbon mixed in. Ron and Bill had cleared small spaces in order to sit on the floor, but otherwise the carpet was completely engulfed. Harry rather liked it, though. It looked festive.

Mr. Weasley was asking Lupin once and for all how electricity worked, and Lupin seemed to be struggling to answer. Harry wasn't quite sure on it himself, really…

Harry laughed as he saw Fred and George speaking in hushed tones, holding their Chinese finger traps. They appeared to be still trying to figure out how they worked without using magic. He wondered if they would soon start selling them in the joke shop, baffling wizards everywhere with the 'muggle toy'.

Charlie was laid back in his chair, absently blowing bubbles from the tip of his wand. They floated gently around the room, reflecting the shining candles and the colors from the paper on the floor. Whenever a bubble dared make its way near the Christmas tree in the corner, it was soon punctured by sharp pine needles or an ornament. As Bill looked up, raising an eyebrow at his brother when he reached for a chess piece, Charlie scanned the board and nodded once. Apparently he was directing moves.

Harry's eyes drifted slowly over to Ron, who had already moved quickly and was waiting for Bill again. His pink tongue peeked out to taste the peppermint stick, and Harry coughed. Ron absently sucked on the end of the small pole, watching the board intensely. He had no idea what he was doing, the git. He didn't know how warm Harry's face was becoming, or notice the small blush that was creeping up his cheeks. The further down Ron's pink lips traveled on that stick, the more intently Harry watched. When Ron pulled back again, Harry got another glimpse of tongue, and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

Ron's eyes met his, probably drawn to the sudden movement. His blue orbs looked confused for a second when he tilted his head innocently.

Harry stared, unable to look away.

Ron followed his gaze to the peppermint stick, and then back to his own green eyes. Then, he smiled in recognition and looked away abashed, apparently just now realizing the torture he had put Harry through for nearly a month. Bastard.

Harry gave a huff and focused his gaze on the kitchen door, willing dinner to be finished already.

* * *

><p>Dinner passed roughly in the same manner as breakfast. Pleasant talk, beautiful decorations, and a large array of delicious food. Mrs. Weasley had taken it upon herself to make a large turkey, a ham, bread rolls, mashed potatoes, yams, treacle tart, mince pies, and an enormous plate of gingerbread cookies shaped like little men. Harry noticed that one of them had a lightning bolt on his forehead.<p>

About halfway through the dinner, Mr. Weasley cracked opened the mead.

* * *

><p>Harry felt his back connect with the bed as their heavy breathing filled the room. Ron was on top of him in an instant, his hands running everywhere they could reach. They ran along Harry's chest, into his wild hair, and then down his torso again to desperately tug on the hem of his shirt.<p>

"God, you don't know the things I'm gonna do to you," Ron said huskily, a needy tone to his voice.

Harry felt a jolt head straight for his groin at Ron's words. Whenever he had that particular rough tone, it was always a good foreshadowing of what the evening was going to be like.

"Take your clothes off," Ron breathed, his tongue darting out to lick the shell of Harry's ear. Harry was only too happy to oblige.

He reached down and lifted his own shirt off, pulling it clumsily over his head and knocking his glasses askew. Ron was already working at his belt, which Harry aided him in doing as well. His fingers were a bit fumbly and uncoordinated, but together they managed to get it open. Ron pulled down his trousers and boxers as well, yanking them roughly over his feet and leaving him completely naked.

"You," Harry said, looking hungrily up at Ron's form. They appeared as two lions, ready to devour each other. Well, Gryffindor pride and whatnot.

Together they tugged and pulled, and even ripped at one point, until Ron was bare of all clothing as well. He could see that Ron was hard, and Harry was rapidly approaching there due to the prospect of another night like _last_ night. Ron's blue eyes were shining with mischief, as well as a heavy dose of arousal.

Ron leaned over him, reaching towards the magical nightstand that held the best invention in the world. A small bottle was set on the table's surface, and Harry couldn't help but moan at the sight of it. That bottle had aided in more pleasure than he had ever been able to create before. Mere wanking was nothing compared to the things had been happening to him recently. His breathing picked up with his excitement, and he yanked Ron down so that they could snog wildly.

Harry tasted the mead from dinner, mixed with a tantalizing hint of peppermint. He grunted against Ron's lips, remembering the innocent way he sucked on the candy. How adorable it was that, while Ron was simply enjoying the sweet, Harry was imagining throwing him down and replacing that peppermint with his own cock instead. He could feel Ron's tongue exploring his mouth, working vigorously against his own. Harry couldn't take it anymore. He needed to feel that tongue lower, where he had ben imagining it all evening.

"Suck me," Harry muttered against Ron's lips.

Ron chuckled. "I saw your little thing with the peppermint there. Did it get you randy?" His teeth nipped at Harry's ear, making his breath falter.

"Yes," Harry groaned, tugging on Ron's hair to make him move.

"I bet you wished it was your cock instead, eh?" he added teasingly. Another bite. "You want me to suck _you_ now?" His tongue traced down Harry's neck.

"Please," he begged, tugging on the red locks a bit harder.

"I have a surprise then," Ron said huskily.

Harry heard rustling, and a crinkling of a wrapper, which meant only one thing. The peppermint clicked against Ron's teeth as it entered his mouth, and Harry moaned.

Wet noises sounded in his ear as Ron sucked on it right next to him. Harry could smell his minty breath so close, his heavy breathing signaling that Harry wasn't the only excited one here. Harry bucked upwards, grinding his hips against Ron's, his need too strong to be teased so mercilessly.

"Hold this," Ron whispered, stuffing the stick into Harry's mouth.

Harry laughed slightly, pulling it out and holding it away from him. He liked the taste too of course, but Ron was just now starting to move downward, and he wanted to watch. He had been watching it all bloody day…

But when Ron's mouth finally closed over his erection, Harry gasped. There was a strong, tingly feeling that wasn't usually accompanied by the wet heat of Ron's tongue. This was a different sort of pleasure. It almost felt cold, but the warmth from Ron's mouth seemed to combat that sensation.

"Uhn," Harry buried his fingers in Ron's hair at the back of his head, making sure he stayed right where he was. The feeling was strange, and definitely different, but he didn't want it to stop. "Ron…that feels…oh god…"

Ron moved down, taking him as deeply as he could go. Harry felt the tip of his cock tap the back of Ron's throat, and he had to try hard not to thrust upward and choke him. God, he could feel everything. The minty sensation on his erection seemed to have heightened its senses somehow. Ron's tongue worked slowly along the underside of his cock, wet and soft, driving him wild. Harry whined, gripping tight to the sheet below him. Ron came back up again slowly, the top of his red hair hanging slightly forward, the loose little curls that formed near the ends shielding his face from view. Harry felt him suck hard on the head of his cock and a hand wrap around the base, stroking him roughly at the same time. He squirmed, unable to take it. He couldn't handle all of this. He was pitifully close to coming already.

Breathing heavily, Harry pushed Ron's hair away from his face to get a better look. The redhead shifted to prop himself up on his elbows, grabbing Harry's hips and pinning them to the bed. Harry whined, wanting more of that warm mouth, more of that tingly sensation. Ron sunk down again, granting his pleaded wishes, but set a torturously slow pace.

Harry growled and tried to push up, but Ron's hands held firm to his body. He whined, pushing down on Ron's head, urging him to go faster, deeper, _something_.

But he didn't relent, and kept his lazy sucking to a horribly teasing level.

When Harry was reduced to little more than a whining, panting mess, Ron let him slip out of his mouth and crawled back up Harry's body. He was smirking.

"You're mean," Harry panted, shoving his bare chest. Ron chuckled.

"I know," he leaned up and nipped at Harry's ear again. "But you look so hot when you're all needy like that. You can't expect me not to take advantage…"

Harry saw him reach over and unstopper the bottle. He dipped his fingers inside, gathering a hefty amount of lube on them.

"Oh…" Harry moaned, closing his eyes. There was no need to ask. He was familiar with the process.

A strong hand ran through his wild black hair while another moved eagerly between his legs. Harry grunted, feeling Ron's slick finger threatening to enter him. Ron was going to fuck him again. To take his body and do with it whatever he willed. He felt Ron move partially over him to get a better angle, causing an unmistakable erection to dig into his hip. Harry's breathing sped up, his heart beating rather fast. All he could remember was the night before, and what Ron had done to him. As that first finger slid into him, he could feel the ache from last time as well. But he knew that he wanted it again, no matter how sore he was. His cock ached to come so hard, as hard as he had with Ron's cock pounding away, and he whined desperately when Ron started moving his fingers inside him.

"Mph," Ron breathed against the skin of his neck, sounding needy as well. "Fuck, I'll never get tired of this."

"Uh…" Harry sighed, reaching up to hold onto Ron's shoulders.

"You like feeling me inside you, Harry?" Ron said, turning his head to whisper in his ear. "You want my cock there next?"

He shifted, but Harry was too busy closing his eyes and nodding to give much notice.

"I do too," he said teasingly. "But first I love watching you squirm. The way you look like you just want to be fucked senseless…"

"Ron…" Harry whined, gripping his shoulders more tightly.

The invading fingers went absent, but returned quick as a flash. They were quite slippery now, and Harry could actually feel the lube gently dripping from his entrance. Ron was adding more lubrication to him, getting him ready for the stretch of his cock, no doubt.

"You want me to fuck you, Harry?"

"Yes…" Harry groaned, bucking upward helplessly. He whined when Ron's fingers disappeared yet again. He could hear the _clink _of the bottle as it was disrupted yet again. It was enough bloody lube, for god's sake. Ron always worried too much…

But his eyes opened wide when he felt something else enter him instead. He knew it wasn't Ron's finger, for it was thicker. But it wasn't Ron's cock either. The object was hard and thin, but blunt at the end.

He looked over to see that the pillow, on which had previously set the peppermint stick, was now empty.

Harry moaned wildly as he realized what was pumping inside him. Why it felt so tingly and cool. Why it was so slick, and what Ron had just been lubing up instead of his fingers, like Harry had previously thought.

"Is that…?" Harry said breathlessly, looking up into Ron's mischievous blue eyes.

"Yeah," Ron said, leaning down to nip at his neck.

The grip on his hair tightened a bit as he arched his back. He wasn't sure if it was exactly safe to have something meant for consumption in his arse, but as Ron angled it expertly towards his prostate, Harry found it hard to care. It made slick noises, pushing in and out of him with the aid of Ron's sinful hand as guidance. Harry whimpered, clutching to the boy above him, trying not to admit to himself that this all turned him on immensely. The fact that Ron was doing incredibly naughty things to him with an innocent peppermint stick. The fact that Ron seemed greatly excited as his teeth expressed his need against Harry's skin. The fact that Ron was taking liberties and pleasuring him with the most creative thing he could think of. It was a bit late for modesty, however. Harry suspected Ron was aware of how much he liked it, what with his whimpering cries and desperate moans, and the way his blunt nails dug into Ron's back.

"Ohh…yes…" Harry said breathlessly, feeling it push deeper inside him than Ron's fingers were usually able to go.

"Fuck, you're so hot…" Ron whispered, sounding desperate.

The smooth stick plunged into him repeatedly, making his toes curl slightly from arousal. Harry whined, bucking down against it, always seeking more. More of what Ron would do to him. More of the terribly naughty things he was capable of…

Ron was thrusting against him lightly, clearly seeking friction for his own arousal. His leaking cock was rutting against Harry's hip, showing him how hard he was. How much Ron liked this as well. Harry gripped his hair tightly, feeling the smooth motion of the peppermint stick. He also felt a bit numb from the tingling sensation that the peppermint seemed to be causing. His body felt so hot, flushed from his excitement. The minty feeling below seemed to cool him from the inside, as well as make him whine erotically. His hips bucked downward, meeting each thrust of the small stick until he thought he couldn't take it anymore. The pleasure, knowing what was being done to him, and Ron's heavy breaths against his neck would surely do him in.

Harry reached down and took his own cock, pumping it furiously in order to get off.

"Harry, don't," Ron breathed, using his free hand to hold Harry's wrist.

He whimpered, but did as Ron said and let go. His cock ached with need, too frustrated at the stimulation that was happening inside him, yet not enough to come without being touched.

Ron leaned over him abruptly and shoved his tongue into Harry's mouth. Harry responded eagerly, thrusting up against him, wanting anything he could get that would help move things along. Kissing Ron always made him hard, no matter the circumstances. Ron always had a way of making it the best kiss he had ever had...

Ron broke away with a light _smack! _Harry whined in need, seeing him lean back and sit up straight on the bed again.

But then he realized that Ron was moving downward, settling between his legs once more, and decided that it wasn't so bad. The stick inside him had paused, unfortunately, but in the prospect of feeling Ron's mouth again, Harry couldn't bring himself to be too disappointed. Blue eyes glinted up at him before Ron opened his mouth.

"Oh!" Harry moaned, feeling that sinful tongue laving at his erection once again. He could feel warm breath over his cock, the minty flavor long gone from Ron's mouth.

As Ron engulfed him in hot, wet pleasure, Harry felt Ron's hand resume it's ministrations as well. He squirmed, panting wildly, feeling glorious sensations on both parts of his body. The feeling of being penetrated, while his cock was also surrounded by warmth, was nearly unbearable. The soft muscle that Ron so devilishly used to torture him day in and day out was now working along the underside of his erection, ensuring that he would be unable to move for days once this was all over.

He would never be able to look at another peppermint stick again. Christmases in the future would be plagued with unbearable hard-ons, constantly reminding him of what had happened on this very night. He didn't care. He would live with it, live with everything, if he were just able to come like he so badly wanted to.

Ron dipped down low, his red hair a mess, his blue eyes watching Harry's face. Harry couldn't tear his own eyes away from the sight. It was so seductive, the way he moved, the way his hand pumped that sweet into his body at a luxurious pace. Harry wasn't going to survive this because he couldn't breathe…

"Uh! Oh! Ron!" Harry cried, tensing. Waves crashed over him, his hips bucking erratically, his hand clenching Ron's hair, so lost in his own pleasure that he could barely register what was going on around him anymore. He came deep in Ron's throat, hot cum spilling out of his cock, flooding into Ron's mouth quickly. He only vaguely heard the slight grunt as Ron was taken by surprise. Harry's thoughts clouded, his eyes shut tight through the wracking pleasure. Finally, his orgasm subsided, leaving him light-headed when that final pulse ran through him.

Harry lay there, panting heavily, slightly aware of the slick noise his arse made as the foreign object was pulled out of it.

"Fuck," Ron appeared again, moving into Harry's line of sight as he stared blindly at the ceiling. "That was really hot."

"Y-yeah," Harry said breathlessly. He couldn't feel his legs.

Ron's face broke into a grin, his straight teeth shining slightly in the moonlight. Even as he was flushed, appeared desperately aroused, and was wiping a bit of cum off his cheek, Ron looked impossibly attractive. His red hair was all mussed, no doubt from Harry running his fingers through it so many times. His eyes shone like the little sapphires they were as they freely roamed Harry's spent body. They came back to Harry's face again, though, with a poorly disguised look of ravenous hunger imbedded deep within his gaze.

"D'you…I mean, is it okay if I…er…never mind," he said, his cheeks turning red. The little freckles there were hidden in his deep blush, and his gaze fixed on the window out of embarrassment.

"No, what is it?" Harry pressed. At least he had regained the ability to speak properly now.

"Never mind…" he said stubbornly, still looking away.

"Ron, you just fucked me with a piece of candy," Harry pointed out. He could still feel the minty tingle in his arse. "I don't think you can say anything that's embarrassing at this point."

Harry could see Ron's sheepish grin, even though he tried to hide it.

"That wasn't too weird, was it?" he asked, a bit hesitant.

"No," Harry replied. Now it was his turn to blush as the events finally sunk in. "I liked it," he said quietly.

God, the things they had done.

"I did too," Ron said, biting his lower lip. "I won't ever be able to eat one of those again…"

"But what is it you were going to say?" Harry pushed, propping himself up on one elbow.

Ron shifted uncomfortably.

"Well, it's just, I haven't…you know…but I know you're tired, and it's fine, I'll just go and…take care of it," he finished.

"Well, do you want me to take care of it?" Harry asked. He felt it incredibly selfish of himself to receive a mind-blowing orgasm and then expect Ron to wank quietly in the bathroom down the hall.

"Well…I had actually wanted to…do what we did last night again, but you just looked so good like that, and I always love watching you come," Ron said, leaning down to nip at his ear. Rough fingers ran through Harry's wild hair again, making him sigh contentedly.

"We can do it again if you want, Ron," he said, turning to speak against Ron's cheek.

"Are you sure?" he said quietly. His voice was muffled slightly by the pillow, but he sounded embarrassed as well.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I don't mind. I liked it when you were…inside me," he said, feeling his face heat up quickly.

"Okay," Ron said, still against the pillow. "You think you'll come again?"

"I dunno," Harry blushed harder. "I've only done twice, when I was…you know…by myself, but if it's anything like last night, probably…"

"Fuck, you have to stop being so hot all the time," Ron groaned, his fingers tightening briefly in Harry's hair.

Harry chuckled. "The last was when I was thinking of you…"

Ron made a noise of interest. He turned his head to nip at Harry's neck again and whisper in his ear.

"You wank to thoughts of me?" he said, glee evident in his voice.

"Yes," Harry replied, avoiding his gaze.

"What was I doing?" Ron whispered

"You…you were…on top of me…" Harry said, his blush deepening.

Ron shifted, rising up on his elbows so that he was straddling Harry's body again. His hand was still buried in his hair and his mouth was still against Harry's skin when he asked, "Like this?"

"Yeah…" Harry said in a strangled voice.

"What else did I do?"

"You…touched me…" he whispered.

Ron's hand moved between them, grabbing his cock firmly, which was starting to come back to life.

"Here?" Ron said teasingly.

Harry shook his head.

Ron groaned slightly and moved his hand lower, between Harry's legs. Harry felt those rough fingers rubbing lightly against his slick entrance, playing with the lube that was still there. Two fingers spread it around, making Harry exhale shakily at the pleasant sensation.

"Here?" Ron asked, his voice a bit lower than before.

Harry nodded.

"Then what did I do?"

"You…pushed them…in-…inside me and…uhn…" Harry breathed, feeling Ron do just that. His arse, which had already been thoroughly worked over by the peppermint stick, was invaded by the two digits. They pumped slowly into him, thrusting all the way to the base before drawing slowly back out.

"Like that?" Ron panted, giving a forceful nip of his teeth afterward.

Harry nodded, reaching up to hold onto the boy above him. They were both a bit sweaty from their previous exertion, which made him have to grip a bit tighter around Ron's torso. His legs came up to tuck at Ron's sides, though they felt weak as his cock stirred to life from the slow torture.

"Then what?" Ron said, sucking on the spot below Harry's ear.

"You said things," Harry continued, closing his eyes tightly. "Things that you always say that drive me mad."

"Like how much I like sucking your cock?" Ron whispered, his lips moving against Harry's scalp. "And how hot you look when I fucked you last night? I saw your face…you couldn't get enough of it once I started. I know you like feeling my cock inside you Harry…your tight little arse says you do…"

Harry whimpered, burying his face in the crook of Ron's neck. He felt another finger added as Ron continued talking, apparently not giving Harry any mercy today.

"I'm glad you liked the peppermint, though," he said, pumping his fingers still slowly. "It certainly helped in stretching you out. Now I can fuck you more quickly, because you're _so _begging for it."

Harry whined, realizing that he had been pushing down on Ron's fingers.

"Do you want it?" Ron asked teasingly.

Harry gasped as the fingers grazed his sensitive spot. It felt a lot more responsive now, after he had already come a first time…

"Yes," he breathed, clutching at Ron's back for dear life.

Harry felt the fingers pull out of him, leaving him feeling slightly empty. Strong hands grabbed his body and, before he knew it, he was flipped over and lying on his stomach.

Harry moaned, gripping the blankets beneath him. Ron was going to take him from behind. He doubted Ron would be as forceful as his first fantasy of sex had been. When he had been desperate in a bathroom, wanking openly in one of the stalls. It had been the bloody peppermint sticks that had set him off _then_, even…

Ron shifted behind him, straddling his arse.

"Is this okay?" Ron asked, sounding as though it were a second thought.

"Yeah," Harry said breathlessly. It was more than bloody okay…

"Fuck, your arse looks so good like this," Ron groaned, sounding needy.

Harry shivered as he felt Ron's obvious erection nestled against him, pressing between his cheeks eagerly. He felt a hand squeeze one of them roughly. Ron apparently was even more infatuated with it from this current angle than he had been before. He hadn't thought it possible, what with the way Ron's eyes constantly followed it wherever he walked.

Ron placed a hand on one of Harry's hips, bracing himself as he lifted slightly. The bottle _clink_ed on the table and a wet noise behind him told Harry that Ron was lubricating himself. It hadn't escaped Harry's notice last night that Ron seemed to use liberal amounts on himself, much more than he used other times with his fingers. He couldn't help but feel extremely lucky to have Ron, and again his heart felt oddly light, as if it were trying to flutter out of his chest…

Ron's fingers probed him one last time, probably checking if he was still ready. They then disappeared, apparently satisfied, and Harry moaned as he felt the head of Ron's cock center over his entrance.

"Ready?"

Harry nodded eagerly, wishing he would just hurry up. His own fully-hard-again cock was pressing into the bed, gaining very little friction as it was trapped beneath him. Ron solved this by lifting his hips slightly, holding onto each side firmly for support.

Harry grunted, feeling Ron's cock start to push forward. He was ready for it, of course, but he suspected it would always be a bit uncomfortable at first, at least before he got used to doing this. It was only his second time, after all, and he was still a bit sore from the first. But the fullness he received, which he remembered vividly from the last time, gave him a sense of pleasure that he wasn't quite sure how to describe. He gripped the blanket tighter and buried his face in the pillow.

"Harry," Ron said, one of his slick hands moving up his spine. "You have to relax, remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry breathed, trying to remember how the hell he had done it last time. It was bloody difficult to control the muscles inside you when you had no idea what you were controlling exactly…

He closed his eyes and loosened his grip on the linens. His hips dropped slightly as he relaxed his lower body as well, but Ron's firm grip held him up in a comfortable position. He inched further in, making Harry squirm slightly from the discomfort.

Once Harry could feel skin touching skin, Ron moaned, sounding completely out of breath. His fingers dug into Harry's skin, but he didn't mind. It was probably hard for him to keep still like this, and he no doubt needed something to hold onto. Harry turned his head to the side, took a deep breath, and felt his muscles relax a bit more.

He felt a hand reach up and take off his glasses. Harry opened his eyes to see the fuzzy outline of Ron setting them on the end table, and then shrugging.

"Don't want them to get broken," he said sheepishly.

"Thanks," Harry said, wishing his heart would stop feeling so strange.

A hand threaded through his short hair, making him sigh. He always loved it when Ron ruffled it like that. No one had ever done it to him before, and he found it rather soothing when Ron ran his fingers slowly through it like they were now…

"You okay?" Ron said, his voice laced with concern. Harry could feel him leaning over to whisper to him, though his hips remained still.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"You're not…you know…hurt or anything?"

"No."

"Okay," Ron said, taking a deep breath. The hand in his hair tightened a bit, and he felt Ron slowly pull back.

Harry held still, closing his eyes tight to try and get used to it the same way he had before. His own cock was insanely hard however, due to his vulnerable position he was in. He liked the feeling of being underneath him, at the mercy of someone he could trust. Though despite Ron's gentle movements and slow gestures, Harry felt something different about this position. He couldn't see Ron behind him, and his sight was already heavily compromised without his glasses. He had to rely on the feel of things, the touch of skin, the breath on the back of his neck, and as Ron gripped his hair tighter and began thrusting rhythmically into him, he felt the familiar stirrings of arousal grow. He clutched the blankets beneath him roughly, moaning at the feel of Ron inside him.

"Fuck," Ron breathed behind him, dropping his forehead to Harry's shoulder. "You feel so good."

"Oh," Harry whined, arching his back. Ron's cock was stretching him, filling him up.

"Yeah," Ron muttered, his hips moving faster.

Harry's breathing was rough as he felt the impact of each thrust. He could feel Ron's slick erection working inside him, long and thick, taking its pleasure from his own body. Calloused hands moved from his hair to run along his back. His spine. His hips. His arse. Ron leaned back to straighten up, still thrusting, and appeared to be groping Harry's arse as he watched. Harry moaned again, knowing he was looking at where their bodies met. Where he was being penetrated and fucked senseless.

"Fuck," Ron said breathlessly. He fell forward again, propping up on one of his arms. "Your arse is fucking perfect."

Harry whimpered, hearing the excitement in the other boy's voice. He sounded desperately randy, if his pounding hips weren't a good enough indication already. Harry felt Ron's hand trail from his hip down beneath him to his erection, causing him to whimper against the pillow. As those rough fingers took him in hand and began to stroke slowly, Harry closed his eyes once more.

"You like me fucking you like this, Harry?" Ron said quietly against the back of his neck. The way he always managed to say the dirtiest things in the gentlest tones gave Harry a jolt to his cock.

Moaning, Harry nodded.

"Do you know how good you look like this? Your tight little arse raised for me…Uhn, you make me _so_ hard…"

Harry whined, trying not to listen. With Ron touching him and uttering such filthy words, he was too stimulated. Too frustrated at his own arousal.

"H-harder," Harry whimpered, gripping the pillow painfully tight. He wanted to feel Ron's excitement pounding away with its true strength…

"Oh fuck…" Ron breathed, thrusting more roughly into him. "You want me to fuck you hard?"

"Yeah," Harry said breathlessly, feeling Ron's hand tighten in his hair.

Ron pushed his head down with his grip, causing Harry's back to arch more as his cheek pressed into the pillow. The other hand was still stroking him roughly as Ron set a more brutal pace. Harry felt that spot inside him send a jolt through his body, causing him to cry out as it was struck with each thrust, Ron's cock buried deep within him every time.

Their skin pounded together, Ron sliding in and out of him roughly. Harry moaned and writhed, pushing back onto each stroke inside him, each rub of his cock with those talented fingers. He could hear the slick noises of the lube, the sound of Ron's heavy breathing, and the sound of his own cries as he was held down, fondled, and fucked properly by the strong boy above him. He couldn't take it anymore. Pleasure radiated through him constantly, be it from his cock or his prostate, both of which cried out with him on each thrust.

Ron wiggled his hips slightly, pausing as he was buried inside him. Harry moaned loudly, feeling the sensation it caused against that sensitive spot. Ron made a satisfied noise as he nipped at the back of Harry's neck, thrusting again and repeating the action. Harry whimpered pathetically, the pleasure making him unable to move. It was an unbearable sensation, but he couldn't move away.

He wasn't going to make it.

Ron resumed pounding into him, his excited breathing washing over Harry's skin. His black hair was damp with sweat, and from being so close to the blankets. His body was overheated from the feelings coursing through him. The way Ron whined slightly as he pounded into him. The sensation of Ron's pelvis slamming against his skin as he was taken roughly.

"Ron," Harry whimpered, lifting his hips again in a desperate attempt to get him deeper. To get more.

"Mmm…fuck," Ron groaned, pushing Harry's head down harder, his fingers buried in the short black strands.

Harry felt the other hand pumping him firmly in rhythm with Ron's hips, hard and fast with a hint of desperation. His hips pushed back into Ron, meeting each thrust and arching his back as he did. His feverish panting and rapidly beating heart indicated the approach of his orgasm, which he welcomed greatly.

"You gonna come for me?" Ron whispered against his neck. "You gonna let me come inside you, so I can fill that tight little arse of yours?"

"Yeah," Harry moaned as Ron's hand squeezed around him roughly. "Oh! Ron – "

He didn't even have enough time to utter the words before he buried his face into the pillow to muffle his cries. Coming hard over Ron's hand and the blankets beneath them, he convulsed slightly for the second time tonight. Ron gave a grunt behind him, thrusting into him hard through his orgasm, drawing out the wracking pleasure. His hand milked Harry of every last drop, stroking firmly as he squirmed and whimpered. Finally, his moans faded, and he relaxed against the bed panting heavily.

He struggled to keep his hips raised when his body felt so tingly and limp. Ron was still moving behind him, but he didn't think he had the energy to stay like this. Ironic, since he hadn't really done anything…

Both of Ron's hands grasped his hips, holding him up instead. He started thrusting harder, moaning slightly every few seconds.

"You're so hot when you come," Ron said in a strangled voice.

Harry didn't answer. He panted against the pillow, feeling extremely useless, but extremely sated as well. Ron was still pounding into him, though at a bit more erratic pace than before. Harry felt Ron's cock swell inside him, signaling his orgasm. The grip on his sides tightened again, he heard Ron's breath hitch slightly, and then a moan escaped the redheaded boy.

Harry felt seed burst forth suddenly, taking him by surprise. It flooded into him in waves, smooth and fluid, filling his insides. He shivered at the sensation, the warmth that took over and the change in texture.

Ron's hips slowed, and he rested his forehead on Harry's shoulder again. His breathing was heavy and uneven, but he sounded satisfied.

They sat in silence for a minute, their heavy breathing the only sound in the room.

"Fuck," Ron said breathlessly, chuckling against Harry's skin. Harry laughed as well, knowing what he meant.

Ron leaned up slowly and pecked Harry on the cheek. Harry felt him grab the base of his cock, which was slowly softening, and slip out of him gently. He winced, not liking the emptiness that accompanied the action.

Ron flopped down beside him, smiling abashedly. Harry let his hips sink down so that he was lying flat on his stomach again. Again, what they had just done was starting to sink in, and Harry could feel the blush working up his cheeks.

"You alright?" Ron said. Harry looked over to see him worried now, his smile having disappeared.

"Yeah, why?" Harry asked.

"Well, I dunno, I hope I wasn't too rough or anything," Ron sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "That was probably stupid of me…"

"No," Harry assured. "I…I liked it…"

"You're not sore, are you?" he asked.

"A bit," Harry said truthfully. The dull ache was a bit hard to ignore. "But I liked it. I mean…I asked for it…"

His faced burned with embarrassment. He didn't even know why, considering that Ron had done more interesting things to him just before. Saying it just made him seem like some sort of slag.

"Yeah, I suppose," Ron said, his grin slowly returning. His blue eyes flitted over to Harry's.

"What?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing," Ron scooted closer, still grinning. "You're just so…adorable."

Harry looked away stubbornly. Ron leaned over and nipped as his ear, warm breath tickling the side of his hair.

"Harder…" Ron mocked, imitating his voice.

"Oh noooo," Harry groaned, burying his face in the pillow. Ron laughed, trying to drag him into a hug.

"It was hot."

"No, it was something a whore would say," Harry whined into the pillow. His voice was muffled, but Ron must have still heard him.

"That's why it was hot," Ron said, chuckling. "I liked it…"

Harry felt another nip on his ear, as well as a wandering tongue. He sighed, giving up, and let Ron pull him over so that they were lying back-to-front. They were still naked, and Harry could feel Ron's limp cock pressing against his arse. The arse that it had just thoroughly ravaged.

"I guess you do like things a bit rougher than usual, eh?" Ron said, his hand trailing sneakily down Harry's back.

"Perhaps," Harry said stubbornly. "What are you doing? I don't think I can go again, Ron, my poor dick can't – "

"I just want to feel what it's like now," Ron said casually. "Does it feel weird, when I come inside?"

Harry's face heated. He could feel Ron's fingers slip inside him briefly, taking advantage of how loose he probably was by now. Despite what they had just done, and the fact that Ron had been vigorously thrusting there just a moment ago, Harry felt embarrassed. Ron was touching him for mere curiosity, not to start something or get him excited. It felt like even more of an intimate gesture now that his thoughts weren't clouded with lust.

"Erm…a bit," Harry said, feeling Ron's fingers move about slightly. He could feel the squishiness inside, no doubt Ron's cum making itself known. It was still warm.

"Damn that's hot," Ron said, sighing and pulling back.

Harry felt some dribble out of him at the movement, causing his eyes to widen. He didn't remember that happening before. Well, he guessed they had fallen asleep right after. Perhaps it had seeped out in the night. Oddly, he wasn't as disgusted as he thought he should be.

He felt Ron place a kiss on the back of his neck. And then another, and another, each lingering longer than the last.

Harry sighed, reveling in the warmth of the body behind him. They were sweaty, hot, and he had cum inside his body, but Harry couldn't help but feel extremely comfortable and happy. He pulled the blanket over them and relaxed against the pillow, feeling Ron's arm slung over him heavily. True, he had spent the beginning of his life trapped with guardians who didn't want him. An orphan who was as alone in company as he was in solitude. And these days, he had fans. He had supporters from afar, but no one who bothered to actually delve deeper into his life. It seemed that forever he had been by himself, misunderstood for so long. But now, he had Ron, and because of it Harry knew what it was like to feel truly wanted. That was the only gift he could ask for, really.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Happy Christmas Ron."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note Again: <strong>So yeah, sorry for the peppermint bit. I was eating a candy cane while I wrote this, and...well...my mind wanders. Also, that one-shot I promised you guys for the 100 reviews is up, in case you haven't noticed. The winning pair that I chose was...Oliver Wood and Draco Malfoy! Wooooooooooooooo! BUT, I've also chosen another pair, which is giving me a fucking nightmare of a time to write, thank you very much. I should have it posted hopefully within 12 years. Ugh. I hate writer's block. However, if your pair wasn't chosen, hold out hope, because I'm not revealing the second pairing until I'm finished with the fucking one-shot. Also, the Dean/Seamus fic is up now, and can be found on my Author's page. It's titled 'Friendly Fire', and is two chapters in as of today. Hopefully more sooner...

Anyways, tell me what you think of this insanely long chapter. Will Ginny cool her tits? Will Ron end up beaten to a pulp by his little sister? What the fuck did Fred and George even GIVE Harry, anyways? And, what is that weird twist that I'm thinking of adding later? Oh fuck. Shit just got real.


	23. Someone Famous

**Author's Note: **Okay. I realize that a lot of you probably were under the impression that I was dead or something. However, I'm alive, and have written a chapter for several fics that I'm currently working on in the hopes that you all won't kill me. A fair few should be updated today, so there. I WAS gonna do it yesterday, but I figured with the whole internet strike thing, I should try and show my support as well.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>The next morning, everyone seemed a bit sluggish. It was barely even morning really, since it was half past eleven when everyone was actually awake and physically <em>at<em> the breakfast table. Ron knew that he himself was only tired due to the fact that he had been engaging in vigorous, extremely hot sex last night, and not because of too big a dose of the mead like everyone else. Ron had known he and Harry would be doing something of a sexual nature that night, of course, so their Christmas dinner had been cut abruptly short. The festivities in the kitchen were so loud that their absence probably hadn't even been acknowledged, really. However, _they_ hadn't even had a chance to get drunk yet before Harry dragged him upstairs. Sure, it may have had to do with the fact that Ron had been whispering several naughty words in his ear all through the meal, but who could know, really?

Harry could never resist his mouth…in every sense of the word.

But all others at the dinner table last night, including Lupin, had stayed downstairs and indulged heavily in copious amounts of alcohol. They now appeared to be paying dearly for it.

"Morning," Ron said as his father stumbled into the room.

"Don't talk so loud…" Bill groaned. His voice was sort of muffled, due to his head resting on the table whilst simultaneously being buried in a pile of limbs. Ron didn't think they were all necessarily Bill's _own_ limbs, either. Everyone looked completely miserable.

Ron and Harry exchanged glances, and then quickly looked away from each other so that they didn't start laughing…

Plus, Ron couldn't afford to look at him much longer anyways. While everyone was clearly hung over and perhaps even stilla bit drunk, he didn't want to risk getting hard. Again. Harry looked so bloody adorable in his pyjamas. Due to their recent activities, Ron hadn't seen much of the other boy's sleepwear, since it was usually located on the floor of his bedroom or at the foot of his bed in the dormitory. However, this morning they had figured clothing would most likely be appreciated by the others in the family instead of walking out in the nude. Though, with how out of it they all were now, they probably wouldn't have noticed.

Aside from his adorably tousled hair and slightly radiant glow, Harry was wearing a baggy shirt, which had a Snitch on the front of course, and then a pair of pyjama bottoms that hugged his arse in the most exquisite places. It left little to the imagination for Ron, but then, he had already seen it and all its glory anyways, so it didn't really matter. He would be picturing it either way right now. Especially since Harry had stood up and was walking across the room...

Ron allowed himself to wander back to last night, thinking of that arse and all the things he had done to it.

God, Harry was so…attractive. All the time. He didn't even seem to try to be so, because he made it look fucking effortless. Effortless actions that got Ron almost painfully hard by the mere thought of them. The little whining noises he made whenever Ron pushed into him…the way he got all worked up at just hearing a few filthy words…the way he liked to be taken roughly, even though he was too shy to say it outright. He seemed so innocent to the naked eye. But what he really liked, and the things he desired in the confines of that room, made Ron shiver.

Harry liked having his hair pulled. Harry liked Ron fucking his mouth. Harry liked being penetrated by sweets. And Harry definitely liked getting head.

Ron couldn't help but feel that he was the luckiest gay teenage wizard ever. His parents accepted him, he had an extremely attractive boyfriend, and even was gifted with a raging sex life with a partner who drove him wild constantly. The only problem was that Ron was hard about ninety percent of the day. But, he figured he could cope, if it meant that he got release from Harry in some form during the night. He was only too happy to live with it if there was the perk of an equally randy boy in the same bed with him.

He squirmed slightly in his chair, uncomfortable from yet another semi-erection. He couldn't stop himself from recalling the feel of that tight, slick heat that his cock had been buried deep inside last night. The smooth dip in Harry's back as he ran his hands along it. The way it arched slightly whenever Harry cried out or moaned. The way his arse would raise slightly, as if asking for more. More of Ron's cock, more of the pleasure that they were both drowning in. He couldn't last a whole day without it again. What was he, God?

"Ron, you okay?" Charlie said. Ron flinched and looked over to see a smirk on his face. He realized that his own cheeks felt quite hot at the recollections he had just been lost in.

"Fine," Ron shot, giving a 'don't you dare' look. His hung-over brother could just stuff it.

"You just seem a bit uncomfortable," he continued, his devious grin growing stronger with each word. "Nothing's bothering you, is it? Did you and Harry have a fight?"

"What?" Harry said off in the distance. He was putting more eggs on his plate from the stove, but had probably heard his name mentioned.

"No," Ron muttered, his jaw clenching.

"You sure? I thought I heard an awful lot of noise coming from – "

"Yes, must have been a cat," Ron said in a very loud, clear voice. Everyone at the table winced, including Charlie. Ron smirked.

Ginny was glaring at him again, albeit tiredly. Ron didn't know if it was because he had just shouted and disrupted everyone's silent suffering, or if it was still her jealousy burning away. Either way, she looked right angry, and if looks could kill, Ron would have been dead ages ago. He had known of her crush on Harry, of course, and that no good would have come from her dashed hopes at romance with him. But the smugness of getting happiness before her for once was still being overshadowed by that damn guilt. And perhaps a small bit of fear, but no one needed to know about that.

He was honestly surprised he hadn't been hit with a Bat-Bogey Hex yet. Well, they technically were forbidden to use magic at home over the holidays, so he supposed it wasn't her self-restraint that was governing his safety at the moment. Ron never would have thought he would actually be _thankful_ of that rule. Underage magic restrictions had always seemed a bother, but now it was proving to be useful in allowing him to survive this long without tiny flying bogeys attacking his face.

"Here you go," Harry said over his shoulder, tipping some scrambled eggs onto Ron's plate from his own.

"Thanks," Ron said brightly. He hadn't thought to ask, but it seemed Harry knew his stomach better than he knew it himself. The warm tingling in his middle returned, which he didn't think had anything to do with the hunger that was already there. He hesitated, feeling a need to express his thanks, and settled for tilting his head up for a kiss. Harry leaned down quickly to give him a peck on the lips before he sat down again.

Ron avoided Ginny's gaze after, afraid of the wrath he may find in it.

"What're we gonna do today, anyways?" he said, turning to Harry. They were the only lively ones in the house, so he figured everyone else was out for discussion. George appeared to be asleep with Fred close behind, and even their mother looked a bit worn from last night.

"Dunno," Harry said, shrugging. "Laze about and play chess?"

"Sounds about right."

"Errol," Bill's muffled voice said from the surface of the table. Presumably _his_ arm raised up and pointed sluggishly towards the window.

Ron turned and saw that Errol was in fact hurtling towards the house, his grey feathers ruffled and a disgruntled look on his owley face. Well, he always looked disgruntled, but that was just because he was old.

Errol collapsed on the window ledge and Ron reached over to open it. No one else had made any sign that they were alive (except for Harry horfing down his eggs), so he guessed it was up to him to do it. The owl hopped in, dropped _The Daily Prophet_ on the kitchen table, and flew off quickly before any of them could give him another letter to send. Ron reached for it absently.

"_You_, reading the paper?" Harry said incredulously next to him.

"Yeah," Ron shrugged, unfurling _The Prophet_. "The Canons had a game yesterday, so I want to see what the outcome was."

Harry chuckled. "D'you really have to look?"

Ron sneered over in his direction before looking down at the paper.

He was pretty sure his heart skipped a few beats.

"Oh no," he gasped, staring down at the picture on the front page.

"What is it?" Harry asked curiously. Ron looked nervously over at him, not knowing exactly how to go about this. One look had told him that this was about to get ugly, though in which way exactly, he wasn't sure.

He pushed the paper out of sight when Harry tried to lean over and see for himself, and shook his head when Harry asked his question a second time.

"Is it about me?" Harry asked forebodingly.

Sighing, Ron nodded, and looked at Harry carefully.

"It's…they…they know," Ron said slowly, gauging his reaction.

"Know?" he looked puzzled.

"About us," Ron finished.

"About…us? What! How!" Harry's eyes grew wide, and his shoulders tensed.

"The other day," Ron said sadly, a sick feeling taking board in the pit of his stomach. "In the…in the orchard, after Quidditch yesterday – "

Ron felt the paper snatched out of his hands and saw Harry's reaction as his emerald eyes fell on the front page. His face fell, which seemed an appropriate reaction to the news.

A picture was there, big and bold for the whole wizarding world to see. He and Harry were standing in the orchard, kissing slowly, their tongues clearly moving against each other despite the distance of the picture. The snow around them made their figures stand out clearly. There was no mistaking who they were, or what they were doing. They were snogging, and it was on the front page of the wizarding world's best-selling source for news.

Ron sighed shakily, not feeling the least bit hungry anymore. The sick feeling was growing as his mind tried to catch up. There would most likely be consequences for this. It would be headline news for weeks, no doubt. The wizarding world's hero was gay, and snogging another boy on the front page, no less.

"How did they find out?" Harry said in a slightly broken voice. His eyes were glued to the page, perhaps reading the article, perhaps just staring in horror.

"I dunno," Ron said quietly. "I didn't even see…I mean, who would be around here? No one else even knows where the house _is_, especially these days…"

"Oh no," Harry moaned. The paper slid from his hands and onto the ground as Harry slumped forward and buried his face in his hands.

"Oi, it's okay," Ron said immediately, panicking and throwing an arm over Harry's shoulder. He hoped to Merlin Harry wouldn't cry, for he was either about to do that, or hex someone. Ron himself was trying to control the burning rage boiling just under the surface of his own skin. Not only did he feel terrible for having their secret shoved out in the open so violently and against their will, but he felt mortified that something so private, meant only for each other, was being shown to any one of the gossipy harpies who would stick their ugly noses to this paper today. That kiss, which was meant for only Harry, was now being paraded around for everyone to see. All the fun and innocent flirting that was so clearly portrayed in the picture was ruined now. The privacy and happiness that they had believed they were in at the time that picture was taken was apparently no more real than the suspicions of the wild Quintaped that had taken residence in the third floor boy's toilet at Hogwarts.

That myth had been disproven by Seamus, who had been the only brave soul to go into said bathroom at the time of the rumor.

"It's not like you haven't been the center of attention before – " Ron started, but Harry lifted his head abruptly.

"But Ron, this is different!" Harry pressed.

"What d'you mean?" Ron asked, a bit of fear taking place of his worry.

The last thing he wanted now, after his life seemed to be going go swimmingly, was for Harry to get scared off by the attention that this all would bring. Ron was happy now. He didn't want it to end. He didn't want Harry to get ridiculed, of course, or have to live through more taunting than he already had to endure. But now, it was too deep in for him to survive without Harry around. Without all this. It seemed ages ago that they had just been friends. When he had been the 'friendly support', offering companionship when it was needed and all that. Things had changed. Their relationship was immensely different, and not for the worse, Ron thought anyway. He didn't feel like the awkward, gangly boy he had always felt like before. He wasn't some bloke with ghastly red hair and freckles, the telltale traits of just another Weasley. Just another boy who was too clumsy and too tall for his own body to handle. The way Harry always looked at him, he didn't feel so self-conscious all the time anymore. Just now, just recently, he had been feeling…wanted. Like someone gave a toss whether he was alive or not. Like there wasn't five other copies of him running around to take his place. Like Harry cared for him.

But, at the same time, how the hell was Harry feeling about all this? Ron knew he shouldn't have told his parents. He knew they shouldn't have thought they could show a bit of affection once in a while. He knew they shouldn't have gotten so comfortable. Now, if Harry wanted to end it, to keep his own life private once again, it would hurt that much more when he said it out loud. They had grown too attached to each other. Ron had grown too attached to _him._

All the things Ron had ever wanted, all the things he wished he could enjoy. He never got them. You'd think he should be used to disappointment by now…

"Find out the scores?" Bill croaked, looking up blearily.

"Bugger off," Ron said half-heartedly, standing and dragging Harry with him. He decided they should probably talk in a more private place, so they could figure out what they were to do before the rest of the family actually woke up and opened their bloody eyes to what was happening around them.

"Look, Harry," Ron said, closing his bedroom door and turning to face the raven-haired boy. He felt a small pang in his stomach at how miserable those green eyes looked behind those glasses. Ron wanted desperately to kiss him. To hug him. Fuck him. _Something._ But he had to figure out one thing first, for it was nearly unbearable to keep inside.

"If you want to...to er…you know…I just want you to know that I would completely understand if you wanted to…part," he finished lamely.

Harry looked up, an incredulous expression creeping onto his face.

"_What?"_ he said slowly.

"Well, I'm not saying I want to, but if you think it would be…you know…easier to just…just separate for a while, I wouldn't – "

"You're an idiot," Harry sighed, walking over and collapsing on the bed.

Ron never thought he would smile at being called _that_, but he did. Apparently, Harry hadn't been planning such a thing after all. Ron would be lying if he said he wasn't ecstatic.

Having got the heaviest topic out of the way, he decided to concentrate on other things.

"Well, what _do _you want to do, then?" Ron asked, sitting next to Harry's sprawled form among the blankets. He reached up and tousled that wild black hair, and the other boy closed his eyes. The worried expression faded a bit, but not enough to portray that he was at peace.

"I dunno," Harry groaned, rolling over onto his stomach. His shirt rode up slightly, displaying a bit of that smooth lower back. Ron gulped, but otherwise didn't bring attention to it. "Ugh, think about Hogwarts."

"You reckon it'll be as horrible as we think?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Probably worse," Harry sighed again, though this time into the blankets.

"Yeah, probably," Ron conceded.

"I'm sorry, Ron," Harry whined, burying his face deeper into the fabric.

Ron blinked. "Why?"

"Because you only just worked up how to tell your family, and now _everybody_ knows!" he wailed.

"Well, at least everyone will know I'm dating someone famous," Ron joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Harry made a noise that sounded peculiarly like 'tch'.

"Plus, I doubt anyone even cares about me," Ron added. "They'll all be focused on that tall, dark, and handsome young man in the picture."

"Don't be silly. No one can resist a redhead," Harry said in a half-hearted tone.

Ron laughed and leaned over him, trying to pry him away from the bed. Harry held fast, but he was stronger, and eventually rolled him over to lie on his back.

"It'll be fine," Ron assured, climbing atop him to make sure he couldn't roll over again. "I'm sure everyone will get bored of it like they do of everything. At least until we do something else stupid. Reckon Hermione can crank out another batch of Polyjuice by the time term starts?"

"No," Harry said miserably.

"It was a joke."

"I know."

"Oh, stop it," Ron whined, leaning down and putting all of his weight on the other boy. Harry wheezed, but otherwise stubbornly refused to laugh. "It's not like there's never been rumors about you before."

"I'm not worried about that," Harry said in a somewhat strangled voice. Ron rose up on his elbows to allow him room to breathe. He would probably need it to talk and whatnot.

"What then?"

"Like I said before," Harry looked away, over to the window. "What if Voldemort finds out and you get…I dunno, what if he tries to – ?"

"Harry, I was already your best friend," Ron said firmly. "It's just a bit different now, is all. I think I'm in about as much danger as I was before anyways. I'm doomed no matter what."

"Great," Harry said bitterly.

"Plus, my family are like, the worst possible sort of wizards to them," he continued, waving his hand. "Even if I hadn't met you, they'd be going after me eventually. We're 'blood traitors'. I'd probably be in a ditch already if it weren't for Dumbledore's – "

"Okay, I feel better now," Harry said loudly, though he didn't look it. His eyes were wide and he had an alarmed expression on his face.

"But I'm sure it'll all be fine," Ron added hastily.

"Really? Because the way you make it sound, you're an inch from death."

"No," Ron said, shaking his head exasperatedly. "I'm saying that I'm probably better off _because _you're here. This house is more warded than Hermione's secret diary she keeps in the back left pocket of her handbag."

"You tried to open it, then?"

"Burst into flames and burned my hand," Ron said, waving away the topic. "But what I'm saying is that, since you're here, we're more protected than ever."

"Not enough to prevent photographs," Harry said flatly.

"Good point," Ron grimaced. "I don't think the orchard is warded, though. In order for us to fly, I reckon."

"Still though," Harry sighed. "I'm sorry I've cause you so much hell."

"Harry, you haven't caused me hell," Ron said firmly.

"Yes I have," he groaned. "I've made your sister break your arm, your family has to hole up in their house because I _dared_ come over, and I corrupted their youngest son."

"Yeah, but Ginny will get over it, and I'm not bloody _corrupted_, twat," Ron shot. "Everyone's glad you came over for Christmas, idiot. And, you know…even if they weren't, I'd still want you over for Christmas anyways. You make me really happy when you're here, because I love…" Ron felt his cheeks heat up as he trailed off.

Harry's green eyes slid over to his blushing face, staring straight into his own blue hues.

"What?" he pressed.

"I love having you around," Ron said nervously. "Really…really love having you around."

There was a pause.

Ron had almost said something that could possibly have a drastic effect on this whole situation.

The 'L' word.

Well, technically he _had _said it, he just veered off at the last minute. But what would have happened if he actually let it slip out the way he had meant to say it? Three little words that could make him or break him. Would Harry not feel the same way? Would he not answer at all? Would he get scared and run off?

Ron couldn't help but recall just a moment ago when he had thought the same thing about the picture in the paper, though. He had thought Harry would want to split because of it. Split because he wouldn't know what else to do to handle the problem. But they hadn't separated. Ron had been stupid to even assume such a thing in the first place, according to him. Harry was a professional at dealing with awkward situations, of course, because he was confronted with them so often. He should have seen before. Perhaps he wasn't the best liar, or the best with handling getting caught in a compromising situation. But with the press and with personal confrontations, Harry was usually set on simply what he felt was right, and fought for just that.

But what exactly that was at the moment, concerning the 'L' word, Ron didn't know. He didn't _know _how Harry felt about it, which was what scared him. Harry probably hadn't even ever heard those three words thrown in his direction before, what with his lack of caring adult figures. Would that mean that he would be overeager to hear them, wanting someone to latch onto for the first time in his life? Or, would it mean that he was afraid of what he didn't know?

Of course Ron's mother had told him she loved him countless times. Perhaps too many when he was young, even, but it had always lessened the blow of constant bullying from his older siblings. But this was immensely different. It was hard to say that you loved someone else when you didn't _know _if they loved you back. He knew Harry liked him, of course, and they had been through things that were definitely considered 'more than friends' even before they had started rubbing up against each other in the night. They had faced challenges meant for protecting a magical artifact, they had been manhandled and nearly eaten by giant spiders, they had faced a convicted murderer only to find out he was wrongly accused, and they had even broken into the ministry. But this, somehow, seemed much scarier than any of those other situations, and Ron felt a bit ashamed as his Gryffindor courage wavered.

"Well…I love having you around too," Harry said, staring up at him.

Ron felt his heart rate speed up just a bit as he tried to focus. It just seemed that all of this was moving so fast, yet so slowly at the same time. How long had they been together, a month, maybe more? It had felt like eternity, but in hindsight, it wasn't that long. This was mad. He was going insane. What the hell was he supposed to do?

"What I can't figure out is how they knew where we even were," Harry said moodily.

Sometimes, Harry was an idiot as well.

"Yes," Ron said shakily, trying to recover from his near-panic-attack.

"I mean, if a bloody reporter can find me, why haven't the Death Eaters swooped down and – " he sat up abruptly, nearly throwing Ron off with the action. "You don't think someone said anything, do you?"

"No," Ron shook his head, moving away so that Harry could sit up properly. "Hermione would never, and I doubt Neville would."

"But what about Seamus?" Harry said gravely.

Ron snorted. "I would think he'd be the least of all."

"But Ron, threatening to wipe his memory doesn't _work _if he's already bloody told everyone – "

"That's not what I meant," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Because of Dean and everything."

"What are you on about?" Harry said warily.

Ron stared back for quite a while before it clicked into place. Ah. He hadn't mentioned.

"Oh, well he's gay too, I guess," Ron said simply. "Told me in the loo one day. The day he stopped acting weird."

"He – what – gay too?" Harry repeated slowly. He sounded immensely confused.

"Yeah. Has a thing for Dean. Can you believe it?"

"No," he said faintly.

"He told me after I confronted him for acting so strange. Turns out he wasn't being an arse after all," Ron explained. "I guess he's had a thing for Dean for like, a while now. Though, I'm pretty sure he only told me all this because he was a little afraid I _was_ gonna _obliviate _him. Anyway, it gave us leverage, so there's no way he'd tell. If he did, his own secret would be spread as well, which I'm sure he's aware of," Ron smirked.

"I get it," Harry nodded slowly. "But…wow…"

"That's what I said."

"Does Dean know?"

"Didn't sound like it," Ron frowned. "But Bill just said yesterday that Dean broke up with Ginny right before holiday, remember?"

"Yeah," Harry said, frowning as well.

"Wonder if…"

"I don't think so…"

"Yeah, probably not. What are the odds?"

* * *

><p>After a long talk of what they were going to do, Ron had finally given into the desires of his stomach and volunteered to go get them a few sandwiches for lunch. He figured they could eat in his room, due to the recent tragedy and everyone else most likely being in an Inferius-like state still. He padded down the stairs as quietly as he could, trying not to evoke the wrath of the hung-over.<p>

The long conversation of what Harry and Ron were to do had been, at least, mutually conclusive. They had decided to just try their best and ignore the vicious comments and criticism that would most likely follow their return to Hogwarts. Harry had gained a lot of experience in that area last year already, so it wasn't anything new. But Ron felt slightly intimidated. Of course he wasn't ashamed to be with Harry, and he wasn't bloody ashamed of being gay either. Hell, Malfoy and his pureblood propaganda campaign had given him a bit of practice with deflecting unpleasantries as well. But he didn't know how much of the school would be against them, and how many in their favor. What if it got to be too much? What would they do then?

But Ron hadn't wanted Harry to worry, so he hadn't voiced his concerns. He supposed that he would find out sooner or later anyways when they got back. Worrying about it beforehand wouldn't do either of them much good, or let them enjoy the rest of their holiday before the storm crashed down. And if the taunting did get to an unbearable level…well…he hadn't heard _horrible _things about Durmstrang…

He sighed as he reached the kitchen. A few people were absent from the table, probably wandering blindly around the house, and the remaining stragglers were slumped over and talking in low tones. _The Prophet _lay on the floor, still unseen by anyone else.

Ron gathered several sandwiches and started rummaging in one of the cupboards for some Butterbeer. When he found two bottles, he balanced them in the crook of his arm and wobbled up the stairs again with the plate clutched firmly in hand. No one even asked why.

He rounded the second flight and gasped as he almost dropped one of the bottles. That would have been a ghastly outcome. There were too many bloody stairs in this house…

"Hello Ronald."

"Holy fuck," Ron muttered, feeling his heart miss a few more beats.

Ginny was standing there with her arms crossed. She was planted firmly in the middle of the second floor hallway, looking like some sort of bodyguard.

This couldn't be good.

"What is it, Gin?" he shot irritably.

"Smuggling lunch up already?" she nodded towards his laden arms.

"It's been a long day," Ron said darkly.

"Why? Too much snogging last night?" she retorted.

He laughed. That was all she suspected went on when his bedroom door closed for the night?

"You could say that," he said, smirking a bit. "But not quite what I meant," he added bitterly.

"By all means, continue to be as vague as possible."

"Apparently the whole world knows about me and Harry now," he explained, sighing. She gave a questioning look and he continued. "There was a picture in _The Prophet_. Someone saw us."

"Oh," she said, frowning slightly.

"Yeah."

"Well…sorry."

"Are you?" Ron said doubtfully.

"Not really," she said. At least she was telling the truth instead of maiming him again.

"Look," Ron said, placing the plate and bottles on the railing. He turned to face her and crossed his own arms as well. "I know you hate me or whatever, and I'm not blind. I know it's because I'm with Harry."

"Shut up," she snarled.

"But I can't help it," Ron continued, ignoring her. "And neither can Harry."

"Can't help it?" she gestured up the stairs. "He was normal until you came butting in!"

* * *

><p>Harry sat on the bed, playing idly with the bright orange blanket atop it. He wished Ron would hurry up with the sandwiches. He was bloody hungry.<p>

Harry grimaced and rubbed at his left ear. It was burning slightly.

Probably just the cold.

* * *

><p>"<em>Normal?" <em>Ron said incredulously. "So what, now he's some sort of freak?"

"No, but he's different," she shot, a bratty expression on her face.

"How do you know he wasn't always that way?"

"Because you turned him," she said nastily.

"Er, it's _not my fault_," Ron said clearly, spelling it out for her. "He's gay, moron."

"Then why was it all of a sudden?" she accused. "He wasn't…he hadn't shown…"

"Ginny, it's just how it was!" Ron asserted. "It wasn't an overnight thing, but it…it works different than just 'liking someone'."

He failed to mention the fact that him falling atop the other boy naked might have played a small role. It was unimportant.

"How so?" she said, arms crossed firmly.

"Because you have to think about a whole bunch of other things!" Ron shouted, losing what little patience he had for her. "You have to wonder if he feels the same way! You have to figure out what the hell you're feeling as well! I mean, do you even know how scary it can be?"

He cut off, running a hand through his hair agitatedly.

"Scary?" she said doubtfully, raising an eyebrow.

"Well yeah!" he said loudly. "It's bloody confusing and weird! I had to worry about what everyone would think! What mum and dad would think! It's not common, and I've never even bloody _known _what –…I just…URGH! YOU'RE SO STUPID SOMETIMES!" he finished.

"DON'T CALL ME STUPID!"

"CAN'T HIDE FROM THE TRUTH, GIN!"

"SHUT UP!"

"It's not like I _wanted _to be this way!" Ron bellowed. "I didn't want to _steal _him away from your perfect little life together or whatever you had planned! It just happened! FUCK!"

Ron was breathing heavily and he turned slightly away to gain some sanity. Her anger had grown into a look of rage that rivaled his mother's. Though hers was different, because he could see angry tears in her eyes as well.

"But why Harry of all people?" she asked, anger mixing with what was obviously jealousy.

"Well…" Ron trailed off, his cheeks heating slightly. "Because…you know…we've been friends a long time and…I just like him…I dunno…"

"But why did you have to take _my _– ?"

"Your _what_, exactly?" Ron shot with venom.

"He was supposed to be with me!" she shrieked, actually stamping her foot. She looked like a small child that had recently been refused a biscuit.

"Well he's not," he replied curtly. "He's with me. And if it wasn't me, it would have been somebody else eventually, because that's just how it is Ginny."

A long silence greeted his words, and he wondered which direction it was taking. Was this an accepting silence, or an enraged silence? Tears were still threatening to fall from her eyes, but they never did. They simply stayed suspended, welled up but not quite contained enough to be hidden. She looked like she was undergoing a very long, very hard internal battle.

Finally, she spoke, and it was with a slight quiver to her voice.

"So…you're really…?"

She didn't finish, but he answered.

"Yes," he said quietly.

"And Harry as well, then," she said. It wasn't a question this time. Well, it shouldn't bloody even have to be mentioned. Ron thought it was rather obvious.

"Yes."

More silence.

"Well…then…I really _am_ sorry," she said, avoiding his gaze. She still looked furious, and her cheeks burned with what he assumed was embarrassment.

"Me too," Ron muttered. "For…you know…all this. Even though you're being a twat."

Ginny gave a noncommittal grunt in response. She turned quickly and walked down the hall without another word. He still didn't know what this meant. Was she still angry? Was she sad? Was she going to give up on Harry?

That damn, _damn_ guilt.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note Again: <strong>Aww. Is Harry ever gonna get a break? And is Ginny ever gonna _not _be a bitch? _Geeeze..._


	24. Play

**Author's Note: **Oh god, I'm becoming one of those authors that leaves a note every time. If you hate that, just skip to the next line-break. For those who don't, I just wanted to say that I was lying in bed one night thinking 'where the fuck am I going with this story, anyways?', and I was having a bit of trouble with the plot. Sex is more my thing, I guess. But then, after like an hour of silence, I had this sort of weird epiphany-type thing, and a whole fucking plotline just rushed into my brain, and I wrote it down on a notepad in broken english, because it was dark. But I'm going to stick with it. All for yoooooou! So be happy, because I'm not stuck anymore, and this shit is going down.

Bamf. Enjoy some smut, cuz this ride's gonna get bumpaaay...

* * *

><p>Harry was lying on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Occasionally a growl would rumble from his stomach, informing him of the late hour and how hungry he really was. It had been a while since Ron had gone down for food and "the best damn sandwich you will ever taste in your life", or so he claimed. Ron apparently had a high skill count when it came to making food.<p>

Must run in the family.

Harry was a bit worried, though. Yes, there were a thousand staircases, and yes, Ron was probably caught up in some dispute with one of his numerous siblings. But it had been a while, and they were both hungry. It wasn't like Ron to ignore an empty stomach, and since their breakfast had been cut short, it was a very worrying concept indeed. Though, perhaps the other boy was simply eating more in the kitchen, unable to restrain himself long enough to walk up the stairs.

Harry sat up indignantly. So, Ron was engulfing all the food while he sat here alone, eh? Harry huffed angrily and braced his arms on the bed. Just as he was about to heavy himself up and march downstairs to berate the redhead for holding out on him, the door clicked open and his suspicions were negated.

Ron walked in quickly, holding two plates and two bottles of what Harry assumed was Butterbeer. He smiled sheepishly while still sitting atop the bed, fully aware that he had almost told Ron of for nothing.

The other boy had a bit of fire in those blue eyes, however, and for one wild moment Harry thought he had done something wrong.

"What's wro – hrghnfl…"

Harry's words were cut off as the food was abandoned, Ron's arms wrapped around him, and lips smashed forcefully against his own. He was snogged firmly for a long moment, Ron's tongue working roughly inside his mouth, and then released so that he could finally gasp for air.

"What the hell was that for?" he asked breathlessly.

Ron, panting slightly and still looking cross, stood over him with his hands on his hips. His height was accentuated due to Harry sitting down, and he looked like he had just been in some sort of heated row. He could tell because Ron's ears were a bit red, and his freckles were standing out more across his face. He looked energized and all riled up about something. Harry would be lying if he said he wasn't more than a little turned on...

"Nothing," Ron said shortly.

"I can see that," Harry added flatly.

"Just…Ginny cornered me."

"Good god, she didn't try to break your neck or something this time, did she?" he asked sharply. His eyes traveled over Ron's form, but he didn't find any cradled appendages or bruises on his skin. Just the stance of an angry redhead, which wasn't an uncommon sight in this particular house.

"No, she was probably too hung-over to try," Ron said bitterly, dropping his hands. "But we 'talked', and I got so enraged that I needed to snog you to make sure you're…so that I could…I dunno."

"What did she say to you?" Harry asked, wary of the answer. He wasn't sure who would win in a fight where either participant was likely to get thoroughly verbally undressed.

"Well, I told her about the picture and everything, and at first I'm sure she thought I deserved it for 'stealing you away' or whatever. But then, once she'd calmed down, she at least tried to _act_ sorry…"

Ron sighed and sank down onto the bed, next to the plates he had abandoned there in his haste. He seemed to be calming down.

"But she's just so – urgh!" he burst out again, flailing an arm. "You know what she said to me?"

"No, what – "

"She said I _turned _you!" Ron said incredulously. "Like I forced you to be with me or something!"

"Well, you sort of did," Harry said matter-of-factly, grinning. Ron's head whipped up and he looked reproachful, his light eyebrows drawing together. "With those cute ickle freckles of yoooours," Harry added in an overly doting voice, reaching up and plucking Ron on the nose.

Ron pushed his hand away, but chuckled reluctantly.

"Arse," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly.

"Well, that too," Harry smirked. Ron was clearly trying to hold onto his stubbornness, but the slight tinge to his cheeks and stifled laugh told Harry that his work was done. Instead of annoyance, there was a bashful air to his attitude.

Ron seemed to forget his previous altercation and reached for the plates. He handed Harry one, which he took with great enthusiasm. As if it sensed the food nearby, his stomach growled in anticipation.

_Kchh!_

"Butterbeer?"

"Fanks."

He took it and tipped his head back, letting the sweet mild flavor flow down his throat. Before, Harry had never tasted Butterbeer in his life. Obviously the Dursleys would have bought it regularly if they could, since it was packed with sugar and all manner of unhealth, but being muggles, they were unable to do so. It brought him a bitter satisfaction knowing they would never be able to taste it. Now that Harry was aware of all the wizarding food and drinks, he knew he wouldn't be able to live without them. He wouldn't be able to live without anything in this world anymore. In hindsight, life seemed so dull in the days before Hagrid had come and whisked him away. Well, probably because it was, even for a normal muggle.

There had been no magic. No witches and wizards. No enchanted portraits or flying brooms. No Ron. He couldn't imagine what it would be like if they hadn't met. He would probably be alone even in _this_ world if it hadn't been for his best friend. No, his _boy_friend now.

And what if that all came crashing down, because of this stupid article? What if his fame had once again ruined his ability to have one bloody happy thing in his life? They had spent the past few days informing those closest to them about their relationship, about how they were closer than friends now. It was meant to be broken gently to those who only need know, to those that Harry and Ron wanted to tell. But now, since someone had found him _somehow_, that concept had been smashed to pieces.

Harry's hand paused on its way up to his mouth. As the crisp between his fingers stayed suspended and his mouth slightly open, his thoughts slowly worked something out that he dearly hoped wasn't true. It couldn't have been, could it?

"Something wrong with it?" Ron asked around a bite of his sandwich, a few crumbs tumbling from his mouth.

"What? No," Harry dismissed, lowering his hand again. "You don't think…er…you don't think it was her, do you?"

"Think what was who?"

"The picture," Harry said forebodingly. "You don't think it was Ginny's doing, do you?"

"_Ginny_?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

"Well…yeah."

"I know she's being a twat, but I don't think she'd be _that _bad," Ron said slowly, reaching over to the other bottle. "She wouldn't tell _the Prophet. _She hates it as much as we all do, especially considering what happened last year. I don't think she would – "

"Yeah, but you wouldn't have thought she'd break your arm, either," Harry pointed out.

Ron hesitated as he twisted off the cap of his Butterbeer. His lower lip crept under his front teeth, but then he shook his head firmly.

"I still don't think so…"

Harry huffed, annoyed, and crunched another crisp a bit more audibly than he meant to.

If it _was_ Ginny who had told, perhaps informed a reporter or sent an anonymous owl in a fit of misplaced rage, then she was doing more than just 'getting Ron back'. This was more dangerous than some petty revenge she could have for her older brother. If she had given away the location of the Burrow, and if it were to be announced that he was staying here, a barrage of Death Eaters could knock down the front door at any moment. He had come here because he thought it would be safe to do so. Now, if it was known that he was staying with the Weasleys, not only would it be Ginny's fault but Harry's as well.

He sighed, taking another draw from his own bottle. He knew he should have stayed at Hogwarts. He was too dangerous to be around. But the lure of a cozy Christmas in a home, company for the holidays, and the general draw of Ron's seductive wiles had made Harry weak. He had let his guard down, and now only horror could follow.

Of course, he had dealt with the entire school hating him before. Ron had stuck by him at that time, and he would no doubt do it again. Even more so, now that it involved him. Harry just couldn't help but feel guilty that, undoubtedly, some of the prejudice would be thrown Ron's way this time as well. Before, Ron hadn't been criticized for hanging out with a crazy person. Harry's ridicule hadn't spread to his friends. True, Ron had always been teased by Malfoy for not being filthy rich, or for merely being 'a Weasley'. But that was Malfoy, who never left anyone at peace for more than two seconds if he could help it. This news, the news about them being together, would cover a larger scope of people, perhaps even from their own house. Things would be drastically different at Hogwarts now. They would be mocked, taunted, and perhaps even attacked. Harry didn't know. He had never been in public long enough (thanks to the Dursleys) to observe what could really happen in a situation like this, and he didn't know if it was different in the wizarding world. Would it be better, or worse?

But at least he would have Ron, and that's all that really mattered at the moment. Harry only hoped that the pressure from their peers didn't change _that_ fact as well…

"Don't look so sad," Ron said, tugging on Harry's ear as he walked by. "We'll find out who did it and put their bollocks in the Hogwarts trophy room."

A small _clink _sounded as he set his plate by the door, clear of all trace of food.

Harry snorted. "For some reason, I reckon they don't want them displayed at the school."

"Then I'll put them over there," Ron pointed off vaguely to the end table, grinning mischievously. He walked back to the bed, and Harry realized that his intentions were less-than-innocent when he didn't sit, but more crawled onto the surface next to him again.

"But I guess," Ron said, warm breath on Harry's ear, "I'll just have to play with yours until then."

"That was fast," Harry said, indicating the discarded plate. Two seconds after Ron had finished and he was already moving in to attack?

"But your pretty pink lips got me all excited…" he breathed, making Harry shiver. "Plus, it's been almost twelve hours…"

"Can't have that," Harry replied breathlessly.

Ron maneuvered him around quickly, grabbing the Butterbeer from his hand and setting it on the end table next to them. Harry felt his hips seized and he was pulled around to lay longwise on the bed, Ron not far behind.

Their mouths clashed quickly, the sticky coolness of the Butterbeer still heavy on their tongues. Harry could taste the sweetness as if it ran in Ron's very veins, as if he were made of sugar and all that was rich. The taste that made him drown in everything that Ron stood for in his life, as well as the obvious hints of sexual flavor.

Ron grunted, shifting atop him, both of them connected at the hips. He ground downward once, making Harry moan into the other boy's mouth, his excitement already built so far. Hands buried in his wild hair, fingers rough with callouses and scars from abuse. The redhead above sighed, moving sideways off to Harry's neck, nibbling his way along to his ear. Harry chuckled slightly as his breath tickled, but soon tossed his head when he felt a hand move from his hair and swiftly enter his trousers instead.

Their position was a bit cramped, yes, since the buttons of his jeans were still done up. But apparently Ron hadn't felt it was necessary to undo them yet, and he seemed to be doing just fine as his fingers closed around Harry's half-hard cock.

"We don't have to do it _all_, if you don't want to," Ron said against his skin. "I'm just…really randy…" he chuckled slightly.

Harry laughed as well. "I hadn't noticed…"

"Or we could experiment again," Ron added suggestively, giving an extremely slow pull up Harry's erection. His head turned slightly and blue eyes fell on the bottle next to them. The neck of it was rather long and…shapely.

Harry tried not to get too excited at the possibilities that flooded his mind. He spoke, not wanting things to escalate before he had his say.

"Er, Ron…" Harry said hesitantly, looking up at the other boy. Ron returned the gaze, an innocent yet curious expression on his face. "I wonder if we shouldn't just now…because it seems like during the day it would be more likely for people to…come looking."

Harry grimaced, hoping that it made sense.

"Oh, you mean we could be in the middle and mum could – "

"Yes," Harry said, his face getting warmer. He didn't really want to think of Mrs. Weasley when he was beneath her youngest son whilst sporting an erection. It was wrong in several ways…

"Ngghhhuuuuuh," Ron groaned, dropping his head to Harry's shoulder. "Alriiiight…"

He sounded immensely disappointed.

"I could…er…take care of it in a different way, though," Harry said slowly. "If…if you want…"

"But I thought you didn't want to?"

"Well, I meant that I just don't want someone to barge in when we both have our kits off," he said exasperatedly. "Now that we've learned to lock the bloody door, we can at least…take care of you. Or each other," he added hintingly.

Ron chuckled again. "Okay, then. Is this in the semi-cool way, or the really cool way?"

"Whichever way involves my 'pretty pink lips'…" Harry said teasingly.

"You make me so bloody hard," Ron said lowly, and Harry felt a tongue shove into his mouth yet again.

They pawed at each other, Harry making small noises each time Ron's hand tighten around him. He was still fondling him within the confines of his trousers, but things were getting a bit…dry, what with the constant friction. In order to avoid discomfort, he knew he had to move soon. Harry reached up to Ron's shoulders and rolled him off, switching their places with a bit of shuffling around.

"You want me to suck you?" Harry taunted, looking up as he fumbled with the clasp of Ron's jeans.

"What d'you think?" he asked sarcastically.

"Hmm…" Harry said, pausing and feigning deep thought. "I would reckon that you don't, but that's just a guess. I'll just go, shall I?"

"Arse," Ron repeated, shaking his head and laughing.

"No really, I can leave. I know how much you hate this sort of thing – "

"Oi!" Ron reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair, stopping him from shifting away like he had been about to. "You get over here and suck this cock."

Harry laughed again, unable to help himself.

"If you insist," he shrugged, still smiling at the demand. It had sounded funny, such blatant words coming out of Ron's mouth.

He finished undoing the clasps and pulled open Ron's trousers, revealing a pair of boxers that were black, as usual. At least they weren't maroon like his jumpers…

Harry pulled them down too and Ron's very excited, very erect penis greeted him like an old friend. A friend who often stood at attention when he was near. He took it in hand, to which Ron moaned slightly, and gave it a few tugs for good measure. Ron's eyes never left him, no doubt waiting in anticipation.

Harry looked up, knowing Ron liked it, and took the head of his cock into his mouth at the same time. Ron bit his lower lip, his eyelids closing slightly at the feeling. Harry knew it only too well. He had been at the mercy of Ron's mouth many times in circumstances similar to this. Such a feeling never really seemed to lose its novelty…

Harry sucked lightly, his tongue coming up instinctively to play at the tip of Ron's erection. It found the small entrance at the head and laved there, eager to evoke a reaction. He looked up to see Ron stiffen and felt his hand tighten in Harry's hair, an intake of breath sharply audible. Harry smirked internally, continuing his slow torture. Ron wasn't the only one who knew how to draw out pleasure…

He worked his mouth lower, moving as far down as he could. Ron made a throaty noise and closed his eyes, turning his head slightly as he lay back against the pillow. The sight of a panting, helpless Ron gave Harry a small pleasure that he had somewhat forgotten about. The power of knowing that, no matter what, you were in control of the situation. The one beneath would do nearly anything to make sure you didn't stop, to keep feeling that wet warmth around them, to prolong that feeling as much as possible. His breathy sighs and slight whimpers drove Harry forward, encouraging him to keep finding new ways to drive Ron wild. The rough hand in his hair would tighten and release, moving in sync with the noises from above as he slowly but surely pleasured the boy beneath him. His own hands gripped at Ron's sides, simply holding on for the sake of giving them something to do. That is, until he remembered the one thing that always brought on the helpless cries of his victim…

Harry moved one hand between Ron's legs, pulling down his trousers more in order to get at what he wanted. Ron seemed to realize what this meant, and gave a slight groan right before he gasped from the contact. Harry's finger rubbed at that little spot behind Ron's bollocks, the spot that always drove him mad.

"Oh! Uhhh, Harry!" Ron breathed, the hand tightening yet again at the grip in his dark hair.

Harry tried not to chuckle, which would have been difficult anyways considering the cock in his mouth, as he heard breathless whimpers above him. He continued to rub at that spot, pressing firmly to the chorus of erotic sounds. Ron's hips tried to buck upwards, no doubt out of instinct, but Harry kept his other hand firmly on him in order to keep from gagging. Plus, he knew that it would probably frustrate the redhead, which always brought a bit of smugness to the table.

He worked quickly in a rhythm, trying to coordinate his hand and his mouth at the same time. It took a bit of concentration, but the reward of Ron's voice made it worth the effort. Ron thrashed and writhed beneath him, panting and moaning, his other hand gripping the blanket beneath them as if it would save him from falling off a cliff. But the only drop near was the one of Ron's release, which sounded quite close indeed.

Harry looked up again to see the flushed face of him, his eyes closed and his mouth open in order for him to pant wildly. His red hair was ruffled and unkempt, a sign that he had run his own hand through it more than once. He looked so lost, yet unbearable randy as Harry pushed more firmly at that magical little spot. Ron was so…innocent just then, enjoying the pleasure that Harry was bringing him. It was no doubt how Harry looked whenever Ron was doing the same, or thrusting into him in the night, his strong hard body dominating over his own.

For a moment, Harry wondered what it would be like, were their positions switched this time. If his own cock were buried inside Ron, not the other way round. As he watched Ron moan, clutching at the fabric beneath him, the idea didn't seem like a very off-putting one.

It was true, Ron had seemed fairly open to the idea of him being on the bottom at first. He hadn't shown much hesitance like Harry had, really. Harry would be lying if he said he hadn't been nervous about having a cock in his arse for the first time. But had Ron's mind changed now, or did the 'offer' still stand? Would he be willing to trade places this time now that they had actually done it?

He decided to test the waters. His finger slipped lower, trailing down to Ron's arse instead of remaining at the current spot. Ron continued to moan, occasional praise tumbling from his lips in a breathless and needy voice. His freckles were ablaze with the heat of his skin, and a slight glisten was visible at the neck of his shirt. Otherwise, he didn't seem to notice what route this was starting to take.

When Harry eventually (though hesitantly) brushed the tip of his finger against the small opening of Ron's arse, a slight change in Ron's voice was obvious. Harry felt a bit nervous now. He had never done this part before. Sure, Ron did it to him all the time, and it was through that that he drew his knowledge of all this. But what if Ron told him to stop? Would he never get to experience the same pleasure Ron did whenever he was in control?

But Ron continued to moan as Harry's tongue worked along his cock, and he didn't object to the change in position of Harry's hand. His moans were slighter, him no doubt recognizing what Harry was silently asking, but there was no indication that he didn't _like _it. Perhaps Harry's mouth was enough to distract him…

He pushed more insistently, making sure that Ron knew it was there, but continued to work at his erection. Ron breathed out slowly, his eyes closed, small noises still escaping him with the motion of Harry's mouth.

"Wait," he breathed suddenly, and Harry paused in his ministrations.

"What?" Harry asked, letting Ron slip out of his mouth quickly. He couldn't keep the slight disappointment out of his voice. Did Ron not want to after all?

The other boy reached over, though a bit shakily, and opened the drawer of the end table. Harry watched as he pulled out the crystal bottle, the bottle that had become a familiar symbol of things to come, and tossed it lazily down on the bed next to him.

"Use that, at least. I'm new to this," he said sheepishly.

Harry sat up, ignoring the slight whine of disappointment as he moved further away from Ron's cock.

"Oi, we don't have to, if you don't want – " he started urgently, but was interrupted.

"I didn't say that," Ron shook his head slightly, still lying back against the pillow. "It's fine, I just…it feels a bit…er…"

"Without that?" Harry suggested, grinning and pointing vaguely towards the bottle of lubricant.

"Well, yeah."

"Alright," Harry chuckled. "Let me know if you want me to stop, yeah?"

Ron nodded, his sapphire eyes watching Harry's every move. He shuffled down again and took the bottle in hand, realizing that this was pretty much the first time he had every really touched it. It had always been Ron who had taken the initiative during these times, and Harry was always eager to let him, really. He liked it when Ron did such unspeakable things to his body. But now, the fact that Ron was so willingly giving up the reigns, giving Harry permission to do what he wanted, that made him quite excited indeed.

As if his cock could get any harder.

Realizing just how uncomfortable he was, Harry quickly undid his own trousers to relieve some of the pressure there. His cock had been begging for attention, but he had been, understandably, preoccupied.

He lifted the bottle and unstoppered it, dipping his middle finger into it like he had watched Ron do so many times. He quickly put the stopper back and dropped the bottle, moving back into his previous position.

He took Ron back into his mouth quickly, resuming the ministrations with his tongue. Hopefully it would offer a bit of comfort when Ron was confronted with the new and odd feeling of having something in your arse. His hand trailed back this time, not as stealthily as it had before, and began to circle at the entrance again with a bit more purpose this time. Ron squirmed slightly, his own hand moving back to grip at Harry's hair, though out of pleasure or anticipation he wasn't sure. Harry pushed lightly, sucking hard at Ron's erection, and felt the small resistance to his finger entering such a tight space.

And wow, was it tight.

Harry was slightly surprised. He remembered how it felt on the receiving end, and hadn't expected such a constricting force to be around him like that. Perhaps he was just used to the feeling. Perhaps it had been different the first time, and he just couldn't remember. Good lord, if this was how it felt with one measly finger, he didn't know if his cock would even fit in there. Ron moaned, his hips jerking upward slightly, that initial feeling of wrongness no doubt making itself known. Harry remembered the mild panic, and the thought of how strange it was that another bloke was touching him in a place that was always a 'taboo'. People weren't meant to be touched there. It wasn't right.

But once he settled, and once he relaxed back against the bed again, Harry knew that the initial shock was over. He spread the lube around, trying to be as gentle as he possibly could. Ron was always so careful with him, he didn't want to repay the favor with brutality. Ron's breathing was heavy again, no doubt the combined feelings making him worked up once more, as well as probably trying to get used to the intrusion. Calloused fingers remained buried in his hair, clinging on for support.

Harry pushed it a bit deeper, hoping that he was going about this the right way. Ron whimpered slightly and his fingers loosened, which made Harry look up to see what was the matter.

"It's fine," he said quickly, shaking his head. Shining blue eyes looked down at him reassuringly.

Harry bobbed down again, taking Ron as deep as he could go, working his finger gently in and out of Ron's body.

It was a bit strange, now that he was actually doing it. It was almost like they had never had sex before. Harry still felt like some awkward virgin, sucking another boy off and trying to finger him correctly, constantly wondering if he were doing a good job of it. It amazed him that, even though they had gone so far as to shag vigorously, he still didn't know what the bloody hell he was doing…

But then, he remembered the little spot that Ron always found inside _him_, and how that slight feeling of discomfort was always stripped away with the wracking orgasm that usually ravaged his entire body. Perhaps if he found it, he wouldn't feel so arse at this and Ron would get to enjoy himself a bit more.

Though, by the noises he was making, it didn't sound as though he were particularly hating it.

Harry drew his eyebrows together in concentration, trying to pinpoint where exactly that spot was in his body whenever Ron touched it. The _prostate, _which sounded so bloody scientific to him, really. It should have been named the 'Holy Fuck, I'm Coming!' or something along those lines.

It was somewhere behind his cock, he knew that… But perhaps a bit upward? Or maybe down… God, he didn't remember. How could he not recall something so vital? Well, it didn't quite matter at this point, since he wasn't very deep in. Perhaps he would have to feel around a bit in order to find Ron's…

He worked in a bit deeper, sucking roughly around the head of Ron's cock as he did so. This was a bit hard to coordinate, really, but for Merlin's sake. He regularly flew a broomstick whilst simultaneously dodging Bludgers, searching for the Snitch, and trying not to get knocked out of the air by the Slytherins. He figured it shouldn't be this difficult. Though, to be fair, he didn't have to do all of those things while he was hard…

It was at the same time that he pushed against something, arching his finger upward, that Ron gasped slightly and turned his head to the side.

Harry smirked.

He sucked hard and rubbed that spot again, able to feel it at least with some discernible difference. Above him Ron writhed, his legs spreading as wide as they could with his trousers still partially around them. His moans increased in volume, his fingers tightening in Harry's hair, and his mouth falling open to create a delicious picture. Slightly helpless, with the added bonus of strong muscular arms glistening in the light from the window and tousled red hair that reflected each tiny ray of sunshine.

"Ohhhh!" he sighed, his back arching slightly as Harry worked at that spot.

It was here that his jaw began to ache, which it usually did after too long. Sucking a cock wasn't as glamorous as it sounded, which wasn't very glamorous to begin with. He took his mouth away for a moment, panting for his own air as he let himself catch up. He looked up to see Ron watching him, cheeks glowing from his excitement.

"Don't stop," he pleaded breathlessly, laying his head back as Harry gave another powerful wiggle of his finger.

"Like it?" he teased, grinning mischievously.

Ron seemed only able to laugh shakily and nod.

Harry trailed his tongue up the side of his erection, making sure he felt the constant pressure he was putting against that spot inside him as well, and took him back into his mouth once he got another whimper.

He was relentless, pumping his fingers roughly against that pleasure spot now, sucking hard and trying to get his prize. True, he didn't really like the taste, but hearing Ron come was quite worth the effort of getting him there.

And soon, he did. Ron moaned loudly, his back arching again, a hand clutching desperately at the blankets. He clearly tried to muffle his cries as Harry felt hot seed burst forth into his mouth, but Harry himself was a bit preoccupied with catching all of it to tell him to be quiet. He gulped quickly, not quite able to get it all in before another spurt flooded his mouth and came gushing out between his lips. He gulped again, but it was too late. It had gotten all over the left side of his cheek. He flinched, but stayed there until Ron was finished, his moans dying down to heavy breathing.

When he had calmed, Harry released him and pulled his fingers from his arse. He probably looked a complete mess.

"That…was so bloody hot, I don't think I can move," Ron said slowly, staring up at him with half-lidded eyes.

"It probably could have been a bit more graceful," Harry laughed, trying to wipe the spunk off the side of his face.

"Sorry," Ron said sheepishly. "Want me to go get you a towel or something?"

"That'd be nice," he sighed, wiping off his glasses. "Sorry I ruined it…"

"Er…_what_?" Ron said, propping himself up on his elbows. "I don't think I've ever come harder in my life. Your finger and…the lube and…all over your face... Ergh. I'm getting hard again."

"Better not," Harry said, chuckling. "I need a break. And a bloody towel."

"Right."


	25. Boxing Day

**Author's Note: **I realize that I didn't post a chapter for Valentine's Day, which was probably a dick move on my part. It wasn't really as a lack of time, either, since I was bitterly alone on the holiday. Hhhhhh...probably why I wasn't in the mood to write in the first place. However, in order to hopefully make up for it, I will post my next chapter sooner than usual. Let me here you say "Go write that fucking chapter, you crazy bum!"

This chapter was brought to you all with the aid of Coco Pebbles and Nilla Wafers...

* * *

><p>Ron stood before the mirror in the upstairs bathroom. He was here because he had offered to run to the toilet and fetch Harry a towel. The reason he looked as though he had just sprinted the entirety of the house several times was because, not half a minute ago, Ron had experienced the best orgasm he had probably ever had in his life. It had felt more…thorough. As if his entire body had erupted instead of just his cock. Perhaps it was because of the way Harry had so suddenly taken initiative. Perhaps it was seeing Harry's confident smirk and feeling so helpless in the presence of that emerald stare. Perhaps it was because Harry had touched him in different ways this time…ways Ron hadn't experienced yet.<p>

Whatever it was, that bloody prostate thing certainly had a heavy part in it.

He hadn't known how different it would feel, getting fingered in the arse and whatnot. Well, he had some idea, judging by the way Harry always moaned and writhed beneath him when Ron was doing the same exact thing. But this had been a bit of a shocker.

For instance, he had just assumed Harry was noisy in bed. He often exclaimed his pleasure loud enough for Ron to hear, as well as be concerned that others were listening in. He figured they probably were, ever since his father had informed him of their volume. But Ron had been moaning just the same this time. Perhaps not as loud, he didn't think. That record still probably belonged to Harry. But the way it felt called for at least _some_ vocalization. Some way to inform the other person that you were about ready to pass out from all the tingling in your pelvic region. A mouth over his cock, dark hair tickling his navel, and something rubbing insistently at a spot that shot pleasure up through your stomach from each contact. It all happened at once, and for quite a while.

His legs were still a bit wobbly. His arse ached a bit as well, since it was obviously not used to having foreign appendages inside it. However, as he looked over his flushed face, trembling hands, and overall breathless appearance, Ron couldn't help but grin to himself. He certainly liked it, that was for sure.

He tripped over to the linen closet, which was in a complete state as always, and fumbled around for a small towel. He got it wet with a run of the faucet, too. Harry probably wouldn't want a sticky cheek for the rest of the afternoon, despite how insanely arousing it was for Ron to have his cum proudly displayed on another boy's face. Especially such an attractive face…

Ron groaned and headed out the door, willing his tired cock to just calm down. He didn't need to get all excited again, especially when Harry was probably almost blinded by his spunk. Well, he was almost blind anyways, what with his vision so heavily impaired, but he didn't need the unbearable sting of semen entering the safety of your eye as well, because it hurt like a bitch.

Not that Ron's aim was so unfortunate the he had once experienced such a feeling, or anything…

"Hey," Ron said as he stumbled back into the room, trying to put strength back in his voice so that he didn't sound as wobbly as he felt. "D'you…d'you want me to get it, or – ?"

Harry laughed, reaching up for the proffered towel. "I've got it, thanks."

Ron watched as the towel swiped over that smooth face. Harry had taken his glasses off, which had unfortunately taken some of the blow as well, and they were resting on the surface of the blanket. Ron always liked when Harry had his glasses off. He was more able to see those almond-shaped green eyes and that adorable nose. Though admittedly the glasses gave Harry an innocent look that, while entirely deceiving, made Ron randier than a Puffskein in June.

June was when Puffskeins were known to mate. Vigorously.

And as he watched, Harry taking on that usual vacant expression whenever he couldn't see, Ron couldn't help but think again about what this new step had meant, exactly. The fact that Harry was getting bolder, taking charge now in their sexual explorations, meant that he would soon most likely want Ron to be on the receiving end of…it.

He didn't mind too much, honestly. He figured it was only fair that if he did it to Harry, Harry had the right to deflower him as well. Mind, he didn't really know if this still counted as him being a virgin. Were you a virgin if you had fucked somebody, but they hadn't fucked you yet? Urgh, this gay thing was so difficult. Would he ever understand what the bloody hell was going on?

Ron guessed that, no, he probably didn't have the innocent little virginal twinkle in his eye anymore. He hadn't ever really felt innocent, to tell the truth, what with all the trouble he found himself in. Growing up one spot down from the twins meant that they were the closest influence, which was never a good thing. Anything they 'influenced' usually tended to explode. But the twins hadn't taught him to be a complete pervert and enjoy copious amounts of fornication with 'the Chosen One' of the wizarding world. That was all Ron.

So yes, he didn't mind that Harry would eventually want to fuck him. He must be getting bloody curious, and Ron's innocence had been thrashed to pieces long ago. Plus, if it felt anything like five minutes ago did…

He shivered.

"What is it?" Harry asked, placing his glasses back over his eyes.

"Still reeling from coming so hard," Ron admitted truthfully. He walked forward and flopped down on the bed, lying inelegantly on his stomach.

Harry laughed, his nose crinkling yet again and pearly teeth making an appearance. Ron hated it when he did that. It made him think the word 'cute' over and over, and it made his stomach feel strange. He knew what the small tingling in his midsection meant now, and it only made him more nervous than before.

But a smirk formed when he noticed Harry shift uncomfortably.

"Got a bit of a problem there?" he asked teasingly.

"Not 'a bit' of one," Harry quipped, but his cheeks were already turning red. Whenever Harry's 'needs' were discussed, they usually did.

"Why, d'you like me coming on your face?" Ron chuckled. He had meant it as a joke, but when Harry didn't say anything in response, Ron bit his lower lip.

_Must…not…get hard…_

He distracted himself by lifting up from his position. As Ron crawled over to Harry, who was warily watching his every move, he realized that the only way to divert his attention the most was to tease Harry with naughty talk. That always brought a laugh, if not anything else.

"So you do like it?" he taunted, leaning closer to the other boy. The tip of his nose was tickled by unruly black hair, and it smelled entirely of Harry. A sort of heavy-warm-sweet smell, like the biscuits his mum makes sometimes for special tea. Perhaps a thick sort of vanilla, or something? Whatever it was, it was a bit unexpected from a bloke who played Quidditch every waking moment of his life. Or, when he wasn't doing that, he was being molested by Ron in a dark, stuffy room. It was probably his bloody expensive hair-potion that he used. Ron could never remember him smelling like this before.

Though, before he hadn't really gotten close enough to smell Harry in the first place. Now, Ron rather liked inhaling the scent of his hair.

What? He was _allowed._

"You smell good," he breathed against Harry's scalp, explaining his long-running silence.

"Er, thanks…"

"Want me to take care of that?" he said lightly, reaching between Harry's legs and firmly grasping the subject of discussion.

"Hn-! Er…y-yeah, if you want – "

"RON!"

Ron sighed heavily, closed his eyes, and bellowed back to the voice from downstairs that belonged to his dearest mother.

"WHAT?"

Harry winced, and Ron realized too late that he was still next to Harry's ear. He pulled back, smiling sheepishly.

"COME DOWNSTAIRS AND HELP ME WITH THE GNOMES!"

"CAN'T YOU GET SOMEONE ELSE TO DO IT?" he shouted, rolling his eyes for Harry's benefit. Harry chuckled.

"NO! EVERYONE ELSE IS…TOO ILL!"

"YOU MEAN HUNG-OVER?"

"WELL, YES! HELP YOUR MUMMY!"

"Ugh…ALRIGHT!" he bellowed back, admitting defeat.

Ron reached for Harry's trousers again.

"Oi, I thought you just – "

"It can wait a bit," he said mischievously.

Ron snaked his hand into the jeans quickly before Harry's morals could outweigh his hard-on. He knew that Harry would no doubt play the martyr for the sake of doing chores if he had the chance to think about it, but the low moan that passed through those delicious pink lips signaled that Ron had acted in time.

He leaned forward and nipped at Harry's ear, making sure to squeeze around his erection at the same time.

"Did you like that?" Ron said, grinning despite himself. "I can't wait for you to do it again…"

"W-what?" Harry asked shakily.

"Touch me again," he answered, pulling open Harry's trousers a bit more. "I like the way you feel in me…"

"Oh god," Harry said lowly. He sounded foreboding, but Ron could feel the other boy's grip on his forearm tightening, which gave him away. His jumper would have protested at the rough treatment, but Ron found it hard to complain.

He brought up a hand and pushed Harry's chest lightly, indicating that he should lie down. Ron followed with him, however, staying latched to Harry's ear in order to continue breathing naughty things into it. It always moved along the process, and he had to work rather quickly in case his mum decided to come snooping.

"Mmm…I hope it's more next time," he said cheekily, getting a shuddering breath in response. "Other things in me, perhaps…"

Ron gave another slow pull up his cock to accent his point, making sure Harry understood just what he was suggesting.

"You…you want me to?" Harry managed breathlessly.

"Yeah," he said simply. "I think it would be hot, don't you think? You, pushing into me like that – "

He stroked slowly along Harry's erection.

" – making me moan like I did just now – "

He gave another nip to Harry's ear.

" – calling out your name as you fuck me hard like I _know_ you want to…"

He felt Harry's hips push up, his breath catching again.

"You can do all those things, if you want. You can take me right here, if you feel like," he licked slowly along Harry's jaw line, feeling the smooth skin against his tongue until he found Harry's lips.

"You want to fuck me, Harry?"

Ron tried not to laugh at the helpless look on Harry's face. His eyes were wide, almost disbelieving, and his face was ablaze with color. His body squirmed, his hands gripped the blankets. He looked like he would very much enjoy the picture Ron was painting, yet seemed unable to confirm it. Ron snagged that plump lower lip with his teeth, wondering if he would ever get an answer.

It came in the form of a moan, and Ron felt hands thread through his own hair.

Harry pulled him closer, and Ron obliged. They snogged heatedly, Ron stroking firmly with his right hand in order to get Harry off effectively. Unfortunately, he could feel his own length getting a bit stiff, as it was starting to strain against his trousers again, but he would have to deal with that later. Harry gasped and grunted in between kisses, their mouths only breaking apart briefly before their tongues twined together again. The black-haired boy seemed almost desperate, despite the fact that all Ron was doing was wanking him. The sight of him, lying there, breathless and pink-faced, was too arousing.

In order to avoid having to face his mum with a full-on erection, Ron leaned more over Harry's body and put his face to Harry's shoulder so that he didn't have to watch. However, the heavy breathing against his ear and the occasional sensation of teeth on his neck did little to quell his arousal. Damn.

With a breathy moan that made Ron shudder, Harry's body convulsed again and he came. Ron felt the cum flood over his hand, heard the indecipherable words muttered into his shoulder, and winced as his hair was tugged rather forcefully.

It made him insanely randy.

They lay there, panting, though Harry a bit more so. When his arm began to feel less fatigued, Ron leaned up to survey the damage. Or, perhaps to just get a look at how attractive Harry was post-orgasm, who knew for sure…

He cursed himself again.

Harry's cheeks were enflamed and his green eyes were shining, despite the glassy barriers that somewhat hid them. He let his hands fall back from Ron's hair as he pulled away. They landed above his head, splayed out on the bed in a way that just begged for him to be ravished again. Ron was beginning to rethink his promise of Harry fucking him. It was still _him_ who looked so…fuckable.

He gulped.

"RON!"

"Ergh! I'M COMING!" he bellowed agitatedly. Such a lovely way to have one's arousal spoiled. By his own mother…

Harry laughed breathlessly, clearly amused at his annoyance. Ron sneered back, but gave him yet another kiss before he climbed off.

"I shan't expect you be long," he said, slinking off towards the door. "You probably won't have to help, though. Merlin knows she'll make _me_ do all the work while you sit it out."

"That's okay. It means I can watch you get all sweaty," Harry replied in a cheeky way. Well, as cheeky as one could look while appearing so lifeless.

"Best to change your trousers first," Ron smirked.

He closed the door, laughing as he heard Harry swear under his breath.

* * *

><p>"Wow mum, that was a good one."<p>

He watched as the twelfth gnome that day sailed over the fence, jabbering angrily in a language no one could understand. If they could, however, Ron didn't reckon they would be overly kind words…

He rummaged beneath one of the overgrown rosebushes and yanked out another, which then proceeded to try and sink its little razor teeth into his gloved hand.

"I don't think so," he snarled, dangling it upside-down so that it couldn't reach him. He held it by the ankle, swung it round a fair few times, and then hurled it over the fence to be rid of the thing. It gabbled scathingly all the way through the air, until a soft _puff _signaled its landing in the snow quite a distance away.

He panted slightly, his breath coming out in a mist from the cold. He looked back to see Harry watching from the sitting room window. Harry waved, his nose crinkling as he laughed adorably. Ron swallowed, waved back, and turned away again to ease his stomach.

"Mum, why are we doing this on Boxing Day, of all days?" Ron whined, slumping over to her as she knelt in the snow. "I thought we weren't supposed to work…?"

She glared up at him.

"You know quite well that this doesn't count. Plus, I've been putting this off for weeks. The gnomes must have been growing some sort of army back here…" she shook her head.

"You only put it off until we all come home for Christmas," Ron mumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"_What?"_

"Nothing," he said fervently. An hour out in the frigid air had taken away his basic common sense, it seemed. However, that didn't stop him from wanting to complain. "But it's cold out! And I want to see Harry…"

"I think you've seen quite enough of him for the past few nights," she replied lowly, a hint of a smirk on her face.

"Muuuum!" he wailed, eyes going wide.

"It's quite alright, dear. Everyone does it at some point."

"Mum!"

"All I'm saying Ronald is that I understand. He's a handsome boy, after all…"

"This was horrible enough with dad," he said firmly, trying to ignore the heat creeping up his neck. "Please, don't…"

She held up her hands in defense, but mercifully said no more. His mother stood back up, empty-handed of any more little beasts at this point.

"Well, I reckon that's all of them for now," she sighed, wiping her cloak free from snow. "At least until next week. Shall we head inside for tea?"

"Yeah, okay."

"Thank you for helping mummy with the gnomes, dear," she reached over and ruffled his hair annoyingly, but he allowed it.

"No problem."

They trudged through the snowy backyard, making their way up to the warmth of the house. Ron couldn't help but feel grateful for heating charms. Scarves just didn't do enough when you were outside chasing little potato-sized creatures…

"Oh my, look at that," his mother said in an almost smug voice.

Ron looked to where she was smirking, at the window, through which Harry was seen holding up two steaming mugs. One of them was stuffed with marshmallows to the point where it was almost overflowing…

"He's quite charming, isn't he dear?" she said knowingly.

Ron blushed again, ducking his head as he tried not to show it.

"Yeah…" he muttered truthfully.

When they came through the back door, Harry approached and handed them each a mug.

"I would have made tea, but everyone else looked…er…didn't look hungry, so I just made hot chocolate for you instead," Harry shrugged sheepishly. "I hope that's alright."

"Yes, yes, quite alright," his mother said, waving a hand. "Thank you so much, Harry dear! Now you sit down like I told you to do…silly boy…"

"Yes Mrs. Weasley."

Harry grabbed his own mug and wandered toward the sofa. Ron made to follow him, and his mother bustled off towards the kitchen, giving him a wide smirk that she didn't even bother to hide. Ron sighed and sat next to Harry. It would be a while before he heard the end of this…

"Thanks, by the way," Ron added, raising his mug to Harry.

"No problem. Oi, how'd the gnomes go? I didn't even know they stayed here in the winter," he said curiously."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "Where else would they go?"

"I dunno, I figured they migrated or hibernated or something…"

"What or what?" Ron asked, confused as all hell. "I think those muggles turned you mad."

Harry chuckled, but didn't elaborate.

As Ron watched the other boy, taking a cautious sip of his extra-sweet hot chocolate, he noticed that Harry seemed rather content. The only times Ron had ever seen him as such were after they had fooled around and he was too spent, or whenever he was simply here at the Burrow. Perhaps sometimes at Hogwarts, but never in such a…happy way. It was almost sad. Had Harry really never relaxed enough to where he couldn't be at ease like this anywhere else?

He supposed that being Harry Potter brought with it several downers. There was the madman having returned using the captured blood of said boy, constantly making attempts to kill him. There was the fact that the papers couldn't leave him alone for ten bloody minutes. There was the combined support and hate that followed him around in the form of spectators, fans, and enemies. Plus the obvious problem of having a lightning scar on your forehead so that everyone knew who you were right from the start.

But there were things Harry had been through that didn't even have to do with his fame. For the first eleven years of his life, Harry had been raised by muggles who had barely even known who he was. Not only that, but they were the most horrid muggles Ron had ever heard of. He had heard of bad ones, too. Apparently, some of them followed you around, writing little slips of paper to tell you if you did something wrong and pinning them to your car. Others still would stand on street corners, shouting that you should buy their merchandise or give them money for no reason at all. Hell, he had heard that some would even steal the letters from your home before you could send them, putting them in large bags where they were carried off and never seen again. Why on Earth would they do that?

Ron had no idea, but none of those muggles were as mad as the ones who had tortured Harry for his entire childhood. Ron wasn't blind. He had heard brief stories, glimpses of the life Harry had been forced to live before Hogwarts. He had seen Harry get steadily more depressed as the end of term approached each year. While most of the kids were happy for the summer, ready to spend three months away from essays and stuffy classrooms, Harry always took on a gloomy demeanor. He would try to hide it, of course. Say that it was nothing. But Ron and Hermione knew that it was because he would be forced to live another hot, dry summer with people who despised him. People who should have been fucking grateful to be in his very presence.

Didn't they know how many lives Harry had saved? How many _muggle _lives, especially? In that window of time that You-Know-Who had been gone, the window that had held so much peace for the wizarding world, there were no unexplained deaths that the muggles didn't understand. There weren't mass murders in the streets anymore that had to be hastily covered up. Yes, You-Know-Who was back, but if he had been rampaging the streets for all those years, the years that Harry had saved when he was just a baby, then there may not have been any muggles left today. At least when You-Know-Who had been around the first time, he had held wizard blood a bit higher than muggles'. But barely. If you were muggle-born or if you didn't play by their horrid rules, you would be tortured and murdered in an instant. Muggles themselves were just pawns over-populating an otherwise powerful world, according to them.

Ron was only so lucky that he hadn't lived during those times. He remembered the talk of the great Harry Potter. The one who had saved them all when he was just an infant. The one who had vanquished the Dark Lord forever, yet no one knew how. His mum had shown him the _Prophet_ that had been printed that day, the day they found Harry. It all seemed so weird now, when he had a chance to think of it. When the article described a young child who had sustained a lightning-shaped cut on his forehead, an orphaned boy who was being kept safe from Death Eaters, Ron never would have imagined that he would one day be shagging that boy in his room upstairs…

"Ron?"

He choked on the hot beverage, scalding his throat. Ron had forgotten where he was for a moment.

"Good lord, are you alright?" Harry asked, sounding perturbed. He thumped him on the back, not really helping matters.

"Fine," Ron gasped, taking another drink to ease the burning. "What is it?"

"Your mum called us. I think something's wrong."

Ron stood, wondering what on Earth could be happening now. His gloomy thoughts hadn't put him in a very good mood already. Now they had something else to worry about?

They made their way into the kitchen and saw immediately what was the source of worry. The _Daily Prophet_ sat accusingly on the kitchen table, apparently having finally been picked up from the floor and looked at. But that wasn't all.

"Hello, Harry. Mister Weasley."

Professor Dumbledore stood, tall and sparkling, in his mum's very kitchen. He was sparkling because the stars patterning the headmaster's purple robes seemed extra vibrant today. He looked too regal to be here, what with the wooden floors and the scrubbed table. It didn't quite fit next to his long, white beard, his twinkling blue eyes, and his elegant posture. He looked like he belonged in…well…Hogwarts.

"Hello sir," they both said, Ron a bit more worriedly than the other. He didn't know what was going on. Were they in trouble?

"Ron, why didn't you tell me about this?" his mother said irritably, gesturing at the paper. He could tell that she would be a lot more angry if the headmaster wasn't currently in their presence. Perhaps it was a good thing that he was here after all. "I didn't even see the paper this morning!"

"Sorry," he said genuinely. "I forgot."

"Forgot?" she said, narrowing her eyes in disbelief.

"Well, yeah. Me and Harry decided that we were…we were just gonna ignore it, and whatever happens…you know…" he trailed off under the quelling stare of his mother.

"A wise choice, in fact," Dumbledore said, nodding once. "It is, unfortunately, how one must act in the face of such publicity," his beard twitched, but then his expression turned a bit more serious. "However, there are other things that may take a bit more than bravery to overcome. I'm terribly sorry to impose yet again, Molly…"

"Oh, it's nothing at all," she said absently, her eyes still fixed on Ron. He knew there would be a talk later of 'not telling her the important things' or something along those lines. The thought made him sigh in resignation.

"Would you be willing to call the rest of your family?" Dumbledore asked politely. "I fear we may have to speak about some safety precautions…"

"Yes, yes," she said, snapping her eyes away from Ron long enough to look back at the headmaster. "We'll all meet in here."

She walked to the door and called out, summoning everyone to the kitchen.

"Safety precautions?" Ron asked, looking briefly over at Harry. "I thought…"

"Well, this is why you should have told me," his mother scolded from the doorway. "If some…" she pursed her lips, "_photographer_ can see you two in the orchard, then clearly someone knows where we are. It was highly dangerous to not tell anyone, Ronald, and you could have put Harry at risk if people knew he was here."

"But…but I thought the orchard wasn't charmed," Ron said, panicking. Great, it was all his fault.

"Of course it's charmed," his mother scoffed. "We wouldn't let you kids play out there if it wasn't."

She called up the stairs again, this time a bit more harshly.

"But then, someone could have come and…oh Merlin, I'm such an idiot!" Ron muttered, bringing a hand up to his forehead. It wasn't even a question. He _had _put Harry in a great deal of danger…

"Oi, I didn't know either," Harry said next to him reassuringly. "It's not that bad…"

"Yes, mister Weasley," Dumbledore added in his smooth tone. For an old bloke, he had a fairly powerful voice… "If another was aware of the whereabouts of the house, there is still a fair amount of protection to keep you all safe. Not to boast of my own abilities, of course," he added, giving a small smile. "However, I shall explain further when everyone is present."

As if on cue, the door swung open and a tired-looking Bill Weasley walked in, followed by his many other siblings and father. Apparently they had all been congregated somewhere, probably hiding from any bright lights. Ron rolled his eyes.

What a wondrous view this must be of his family.

Dumbledore, looking rather amused, waited patiently as they all filed in. Once Ron's family had actually noticed the man in their kitchen, exclamations of surprise and greetings sounded towards the headmaster, as if they were all greeting an old friend. Ron still felt so oddly out of place in the presence of such a powerful man, but he supposed that Dumbledore worked with most of his family in the order. They were all well acquainted by now, since most of them worked in the ministry and gathered information, which always eventually made it back to Dumbledore.

When he had politely (as always) asked everyone to sit down at the table, Dumbledore sat somewhere near the end so that they could all see him properly. It was strange. It looked like he was joining them for dinner, yet so clearly out of place in the Burrow.

"I understand that some of you may be rather…worn from the festivities of the recent holidays," Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he smiled, several redheads looking back at him sheepishly. "However, I feel that this matter is somewhat important. Molly has informed me that, recently, your youngest son has told you something very important concerning himself and Harry…"

Ron felt himself turning pink, and Harry looked rather embarrassed as well. Great…

"And that something has now been made more public than I'm sure they had wanted it to be," Dumbledore continued.

"Wait, what d'you mean?" Fred asked, perking up slightly at the news.

"An unfortunate and unknown circumstance has made the story public," the headmaster said seriously. "The _Daily Prophet _has printed what I'm sure was meant to be a private matter, and unfortunately several people are aware of Harry and mister Weasley's newfound relationship."

"But how?" Ron's father asked, looking scandalized.

"There was a picture," Ron said, sighing. "And an article, but I didn't really read it."

"But, we protected the house, no one should have been able to get in," his father explained, looking back to Dumbledore. "It doesn't make sense, Albus."

"Yes," Dumbledore said. His voice had a tone that made it sound as though he were about to say something very important, and silence fell around the table. "However, if someone were to disclose the location of the house, that person would then know of its whereabouts."

"Yes, but they couldn't enter," Ron's mother pointed out.

"But they would be able to _see_ the house, Molly," his father added darkly. "If…if they knew it was there…"

A careful silence greeted his words.

"And be able to take a picture?" Ron added hollowly.

Dumbledore nodded.

"But, no one disclosed the information," Charlie added, looking around. "Did they?"

"That, in part, is why I have asked that all of us be gathered here," the headmaster said slowly. "I would like to inquire if anyone here has told someone else of the whereabouts of this house?"

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note Again: <strong>Aww sheeit. Dumbledore's layin' down the ass-whuppins...


	26. Your Turn

**Author's Note: **Whew! This one turned out a bit longer than I intended. Sorry it took a bit more time than I meant it to. Part of the reason it's late was the fact that I had a presentation yesterday with a group project, and none of my group did their fucking work. Makes me feel like some sort of maniac just because I'm trying to pick up the slack for everybody else. GAH. Anyways, It think you'll find the second half of the chapter a bit...worth the wait.

* * *

><p>Everyone looked at each other. Each stare seemed accusing, as if to say who's fault it was really. Harry wondered what was going to happen. He knew <em>he <em>certainly hadn't told anyone. Why would he even want to?

And Ron rarely talked of his own house, let alone bragged of its location to anyone at school. Harry suspected he was slightly ashamed of it, though he didn't know why. The whole 'poor' thing seemed so played up by Malfoy that no one believed it was true. Plus, the Burrow was a hell of a lot nicer than the Dursleys' home, and they were considered well-off as far as muggles went. Seven children and the Weasleys were able to house them all comfortably. Harry would trade lives with Ron any day.

But then Harry's eyes fell on Ginny, and he felt that sneaking suspicion again in the pit of his stomach. Ron looked at her too, and Harry noticed a frown this time. Was he beginning to suspect her as well?

"Now I realize that some of you may have confided in close relationships, or in order for communication, so I would simply like to go around and we will make judgments from there as to what else may have happened. Also, bear in mind, no one is at fault here. This house is still quite safe, as well as everyone inside it. We simply want to prevent it from happening in the future," Dumbledore said calmly, giving a reassuring smile. "Why don't we start with you, Molly?"

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley looked rather surprised. "Well…yes…let's see…I believe I told Amos so that his owl would be able to find us. He gets rather lonely ever since…well…"

Harry swallowed slightly. Cedric hadn't been brought up in conversation for a while. He hadn't even thought of how Amos Diggory would be handling his death…

"Yes, but he would never tell," Mrs. Weasley continued. "He despises the _Prophet_ lately."

"Very good," Dumbledore nodded. "Arthur?"

"Hmm…I told Perkins at the office since he visits for tea sometimes. But he doesn't know Harry's staying here. We kept that quite secret in case…well, something like this, I imagine," Mr. Weasley said warily. "I highly doubt he would inform the _Prophet _if he did know anyways, but I was cautious."

"Very good. Perhaps, if all else fails, we should speak with him and be certain he didn't accidentally inform someone else. However, it was good that Harry's visiting was a secret," Dumbledore said politely.

Harry slumped in his chair. This was all a mess…

The fact that the Weasleys had to be so secretive meant that they were tiptoeing around because of _him_. He was causing rifts in their communication, their friendships, and even instilling suspicions that probably weren't even necessary. Not only that, but it had still failed, which only caused the family more grief. He felt horribly guilty…

Bill said that he had only told Fleur so that they could speak through the Floo on Christmas. Fleur had promised not to tell anyone else, and had informed Bill to "say 'ello to 'Arry" for her.

Charlie hadn't felt the need to tell anyone, since his usual residence was on the Dragon reserve with the other trainers. Ron smirked at this, after which Charlie seemed to get a bit flustered.

Then, it was Ginny's turn.

"I don't usually tell anyone anyways," she said, shaking her head and shrugging. "It wasn't me."

"Are you sure?" Ron shot suddenly, sounding a bit accusing.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I dunno, you did seem a bit…you know…" Bill added carefully.

"So what, you think I told someone?" she said angrily, rounding on him instead.

"No, but…"

"Boys, I'm sure Ginny wouldn't have said anything," Mrs. Weasley added sternly. "Just like _all_ of us."

"Just say you didn't," Ron said simply, raising an eyebrow.

"I _did _say I didn't."

"Yeah, but you were looking away."

"I didn't bloody tell anybody, okay?" she snarled dangerously.

"And we believe you, Ginevra," Mr. Weasley said firmly. His eyes flitted over to Ron, who folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. Harry noticed that he didn't look entirely convinced.

"What about you, Fred? George?" Mrs. Weasley asked quickly, moving the discussion along the table.

"Well, Lee knows," Fred said, shrugging.

"Lee Jordan," George added, probably for Dumbledore's sake.

"We told him we'd be here for holiday, in case he needed to owl us about the shop."

"Oh, and we told a few private customers, but they don't know Harry's here or anything."

"Private customers?" Mrs. Weasley asked. She sounded disapproving. But then, it was discussion about the twins' shop, and 'private customers' sounded a bit sketchy, Harry thought.

"Yeah. Usually adults who don't want people to know they're buying things from a joke shop," Fred sniggered.

"A few of them owe us funds, and we told them to send them here," George clarified. "Be interesting to see who actually sends them."

"Do you know these people by name?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yeah, there were only three," Fred nodded. "Bowling, Thompson, and…er…"

"Some woman named Skeeter," George finished.

A deadly silence filled the room.

It dragged on for quite a while.

Harry looked over nervously as he saw Ron slowly rising to his feet. This wasn't going to be pleasant.

"You mean to tell me…" Ron said lowly, his palms flat on the table's surface, "…that you gave…the location of this house...to Rita Skeeter?"

"Who's that?" the twins said in unison.

"Who – who is it?" Ron said hysterically. "Are you two completely stupid? She's the woman who tortured Harry all through fourth year by writing those horrible articles! She's the one who Hermione had to actually _blackmail _to get her to print something decent for once! Don't you read the papers?"

They shook their heads at the same time.

"The woman is – I can't even – mum!" Ron said finally, gesturing wildly at his twin brothers.

He seemed unable to speak any further.

Harry exhaled shakily.

Well, at least they knew who it was now. The fact that Rita Skeeter knew where the Burrow was, and the fact that the Weasley name was plastered all over Fred and George's shop, meant that the reporter must have been able to decipher that this particular house was Ron's. If she knew who Ron was, had seen him standing idly next to Harry during his forced interview for the Quibbler, had seen them countless times together during the Triwizard Tournament, then she must have gathered this was the same Weasley household. Whether she was snooping purposely or happened upon the information by chance, Harry didn't know. Either way, the outcome was obvious. A picture in the _Prophet _that was worth more than a thousand words…

Had she known Harry would be here? Had she simply wanted dirt on the Weasleys, or Ron in particular? Did she have suspicions, or some type of informant that Harry would be at Ron's house during the holidays?

"Rita Skeeter is a terrible excuse for a human being!" Mrs. Weasley said angrily. "The fact that you two don't even know who she is should be enough to _not _tell her where the house is! If you two hadn't been experimenting all that time and had perhaps _read _something once in a while – !"

"Now Molly," Mr. Weasley said carefully. "We can't blame them for not knowing her… It isn't right…"

"Yeah, but all this is their fault!" Ron said bitterly. Harry saw him reach for the paper on the table, which held the incriminating picture, and he looked closely at it.

He slapped it back down.

"Right there!" he said, pointing harshly at the caption. "_Photograph captured by Rita Skeeter!_"

"Wow," Harry added vaguely. "She never takes her _own _photos. Well, I suppose she had to, if she was the only one who could see us…"

Ron sat back down next to him, huffing angrily. Harry wondered what exactly he was thinking. Was Ron's anger centered on Fred and George, or Rita Skeeter? While Harry too was angry that the horrid woman had once again got the best of him, using his fame status to further ruin his life, he couldn't help but feel grateful that he and Ron were able to talk about all this ahead of time. When they had spoken alone, Ron had been more reassuring. Now, however, his legendary temper seemed as though it was currently being more dominant.

"Look Harry, we're sorry, but it's not like we knew who she was," Fred defended.

"Yeah, you know we would never help those sods out, anyways," George added, nodding to the paper.

"No, I know, and it's alright," Harry said quickly. "It would have gotten out eventually anyways. The woman is ruthless. I only just…I just hope that Ron won't…"

He sighed, trailing off.

"What is it, dear?" Mrs. Weasley said gently. Her tone seemed to change from furious to kindly with alarming swiftness. She looked from Harry to Ron, as if trying to read the answer on their faces.

"He reckons I'm in danger because everyone knows now," Ron said, looking a bit exasperated. "He thinks I'm gonna get kidnapped in the night or something by Death Eaters…"

Harry's eyes narrowed.

"You make it sound like it won't happen Ron, but look around," he shot. "It's not like I don't have a reason to be a bit worried. In case you haven't realized, Sirius isn't here anymore. It hasn't escaped my notice that, yes, people around me tend to be in danger. I'm rather tired of everyone acting like it doesn't happen, because it does. Don't treat me like some nutter who frets over things that are unimportant, because these are very _real _possibilities."

He folded his arms and slumped back in his chair, steaming with a newfound irritation of his own.

Why did everyone insist he was such a martyr? Hermione constantly worried about his need to save people, and Ron always played down his concerns like they were nothing at all. Yes, perhaps he felt quite protective of those few people close to him, and yes, perhaps he got a bit uneasy when there was a very powerful madman out to murder him and everyone he loved. Wasn't that reason enough? His parents hadn't been saved. Sirius hadn't been saved. Any decent family Harry had was completely wiped out and destroyed, leaving him with nothing at all. Was it so outrageous for him to feel a bit of distress when so much had happened to him already? How could he prevent Ron's outcome from being the same as everyone else Harry had dared care about?

Ron sighed, looking over at him.

"Look, I'm sorry. I know it's hard and everything, I just…hate it when you worry…" he said quietly.

Harry looked up and saw that Ron's cheeks were a bit pink again, and he could feel heat growing on his own face as well. Why did everyone have to watch so intently whenever Ron said something nice to him?

"Well, I can't help worrying about you," Harry replied, running a hand through his own hair. He tried to ignore the staring. "I just don't want you to disappear too..."

"I promise, I won't," Ron said, shaking his head firmly.

A short and unbearably awkward silence followed, during which Harry was able to feel mortified to his full extent. Had he really just said those words in front of Ron's entire family?

Mercifully, Dumbledore spoke again.

"Harry does indeed have a point," he said, pale blue eyes travelling slowly around the room. "Due to the public nature of their coupling, young mister Weasley could perhaps be somewhat of a target."

Harry sighed, feeling his shoulders sag slightly at Dumbledore's words. He hated feeling like some sort of virus to the people around him. However, he felt a hand rest at the base of his neck, and calloused fingers began to play idly with the short black hairs there. Whether Ron was trying to suppress his anxiety or was silently telling him to shut up, Harry didn't really care, because it felt lovely.

"However, Harry, I want you to know that it is highly unlikely he will be in any real danger," Dumbledore said firmly, giving him a twinkling gaze. "Hogwarts is still where you will be residing, and we have already mentioned that this house is well protected still. I simply wished to find the reason for Miss Skeeter's knowledge of the Burrow."

Fred and George looked rather guilty at this, which Harry didn't think he had ever seen before. They usually took pride in the trouble they got into…

Dumbledore turned gently towards Mr. Weasley and Bill, who both looked back expectantly.

"I trust that you know what is…ah…required of us at this moment," he said, smiling slightly at the two ministry workers. "I understand you work in fairly close proximity to her newly located office within the ministry, yes?"

They nodded.

"While Miss Skeeter's actions cannot be undone, we cannot afford any further…_revealing_ of the house's whereabouts," Dumbledore said, his beard twitching slightly. "…I trust you understand my meaning?"

"Don't worry. She'll probably just forget it ever happened," Bill replied, grinning.

* * *

><p>After Mrs. Weasley suggested they all head into the sitting room, apart from the headmaster and two oldest Weasley men who were talking in quieted tones as they left, Harry sat next to Ron on the comfortable sofa, glad that the meeting was over.<p>

However, the evening seemed to be one for uncomfortable silences, because as soon as Mrs. Weasley bustled away, there was one. Again.

"Harry, we really are sorry," George said finally, grimacing in his direction.

"Yeah, obviously if we knew she was that cow reporter…"

"Which I still don't understand, by the way," Ron said bitterly. "Did her name not ring any bells? She's written about dad too."

"And Bill," Charlie added.

"Well, I said I thought her name sounded familiar, but _he_ – "

"Yes, well, what's done is done," Fred interrupted his twin, glaring.

"Morons," Ron muttered, throwing his arm rather violently over the back of the couch.

Harry snorted, but otherwise didn't bring any more blame to the twins. After all, if they paid more attention to the headlines in the _Prophet_, there would most likely be a lot more reporters walking around with a limp. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes had been mentioned a few times negatively, since they were doing quite well and were probably the victims of competitive jealousy. Shop owners in Diagon Alley had been quoted saying they were 'A nuisance to the entire industry, buying up all the shops and expanding too rapidly for the working wizard to keep up with!'

Harry had to keep tabs. He _was _technically invested, after all.

He gave a sigh and let himself be pulled closer by Ron's arm behind him. That was when he realized that Ron had just used the oldest trick in the book. The old arm-over-the-back-of-the-couch transition. Harry snorted, but let him have his moment of silent victory. He had fallen for it, after all.

Unfortunately, Ginny chose that moment to speak.

"I can't believe you thought _I_ did it," she said moodily from the depths of the armchair she was seated in.

"Well, you did break his arm," Charlie pointed out.

"When are you going to get over that?" she said nastily, sitting up a bit straighter. "It was an accident."

Everyone in the room gave a collective scoff.

"Oh, not believing me again, I see," she said, gesturing wildly.

"Well, Gin, you _have_ been acting a bit…terrifying."

"Shut up," she snarled at Fred.

"See, that's what I mean…"

"I'm going to bed," she shot, standing abruptly from her chair. Her stomping footsteps sounded all the way up to her room, where her door could be heard snapping brusquely shut.

Fervent murmurs of 'women' and 'that'll be fun later' followed her dramatic exit, but no one spoke outright.

Harry didn't really feel like saying much either. He was still unsure on this whole matter of Ginny's behavior. While he didn't really _date_ girls anymore, Harry still respected them. He couldn't find it in him to actually go with his instincts and tell her off for being so unforgiving of her brother. He was still trying to fathom why she, according to every other member of the Weasley family, fancied him in the first place. Ginny had never really shown much interest in him at all past third year, so that meant that she had secretly liked him? It didn't make bloody sense.

Girls…

So, Harry was trapped in an awkward middle ground. He felt defensive for Ron whenever she seemed to glare particularly hard in his direction, but he didn't say anything when she did. He felt protective when Ron's elbow had been broken, but he hadn't sought Ginny out and sunk his fist into her stomach like he would to another bloke. He almost couldn't wait until they got back to Hogwarts. No doubt Malfoy would have several things to say to Ron, and Harry was greatly anticipating the ability to retaliate in _those _circumstances. Now, he just felt oddly conflicted and wary.

But, if she continued with this vengeful outlook on Ron, Harry would have to just find the bollocks and say _something_, at least…

And as Ron's hand gently ruffled his hair yet again, Harry silently vowed to do just that.

"Well, now that 'family time' is over, anyone feel like getting crushed?" Ron asked, indicating his brand new chess set resting atop one of the footrests.

"I suppose I'll have a go," Charlie said, sighing. "Though I don't know why I even bother."

Harry chuckled and Ron stood to go set up the pieces. He settled in to watch the game, feeling too lazy to do anything else. At least, despite all the turmoil going on around them, the holiday was still turning out to be enjoyable…

* * *

><p>"Is it weird that I get randy whenever I watch you play?" Harry asked as they trudged up the stairs to Ron's room.<p>

"Probably, but watching you fly makes me hard too, so I reckon it's okay."

"That's good."

"With your little arse in those Quidditch robes…"

"Yeah, I got it."

They laughed as they rounded another banister, steadily making their way up to the very top of the house. As they passed each flight, the various residents of that floor would say goodnight before disappearing into their rooms, though Charlie's came with a bit of a growl. He had lost quite pathetically next to Ron's unbeatable skills, as was pretty much expected. Luckily for him, everyone's attention had been distracted from the game when Mrs. Weasley brought out sandwiches halfway through, but his defeat had still been rather brutal.

They reached the peak of the house and entered Ron's room finally, where it was dark except for the luminous moon hanging outside the window. When Ron closed the door, he put his back to it and faced Harry.

"What is it?" Harry asked, momentarily distracted by the Chudley Cannons' seeker waving over Ron's shoulder.

He bit his lower lip hesitantly, which then diverted Harry's attention to that instead.

"So, did you want to…you know…try it out?"

"Try what out?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow.

Ron raised one as well. Great, had he purchased something else from the magazine that he was choosing just now to reveal? Some sort of frightening toy?

"You know. You running the show this time," he said, shrugging.

Harry's eyes widened.

What with all the dramatic discussion this evening, Harry had almost forgotten about his earlier curiosities concerning Ron's body. He had taken a rather different approach and chose to act a bit more exploratory than he usually preferred to be. However, the way Ron had squirmed and whimpered, the way he cried out breathlessly whenever Harry touched him so intimately…well…it had been rather pleasant to watch, he supposed.

He could already feel a stiffening in his trousers at the recollection.

"Only if you're okay with it," Harry said slowly, making sure Ron knew he wasn't trying to push it. After all, Harry had experienced the feeling of something inside him several times now, and Ron had only felt it once. Perhaps it was a bit different when you hadn't been quite so prepared. He remembered the hours of play in their beds back at Hogwarts, and how…dexterous Ron tended to be.

Harry blushed at his thoughts, for they were definitely making an impression on his body now…

"Yeah, it's fine," Ron laughed. "I mean, it's only fair."

"But you don't have to just because of _that_," Harry said exasperatedly, dropping his hands to his sides. "You make it sound like some sort of compromise. If you don't feel ready we can…wait, or something…"

"No, no," Ron said quickly, his ears turning slightly red. "I want to. I liked it when you…earlier…"

Harry could never understand how, one minute, Ron would say the naughtiest words that would undoubtedly cause his mother to feint if she ever heard them, and the next he was completely shy about discussing such things.

But apparently it_ was_ still Ron, because he was creeping forward now as Harry watched. His freckles came into focus, his bright blue eyes shown in the moonlight from the window, and his tongue went between his teeth in a way that made Harry feel a bit weak. He couldn't seem to take his eyes off it.

And then, he felt that tongue shove into his mouth, as well as rough hands threading through his wild hair. The other boy's warm body pushed against his, causing his breath to hitch slightly. Harry reached up as well in order to grip the back of Ron's neck, already lost to the redhead's wiles so quickly. He was rather hopeless, and he knew it.

They snogged lightly, occasional grunts and sighs working their way in between breaths. Harry couldn't ever really remember feeling as...at home, like he did when kissing Ron. It was a lot nicer than his first kiss with Cho, which was all he really had for comparison. And whenever he had fantasized about any other girls after that, it had never taken on such a comfortable aspect. He exhaled, nipping Ron's lip between his teeth, wondering how he had gone without this pleasant feeling for so long.

But, as usual, things tended to escalate.

Harry felt a hand on his arse, and he was roughly pulled forward. Ron stumbled backward, his body making a _thump _against the door, and Harry gasped as he felt him grind his own hips forward in a way that only Ron could. Harry could feel how excited he was, feel that cock pressing against his through the fabric of their jeans.

"See how hard you make me?" Ron breathed, nipping at Harry's neck. "Mph, I want you to do it…"

"Okay," Harry murmured with his eyes closed, feeling the hand in his hair tighten. He shoved his hips forward this time, reveling in the friction it created. He couldn't help but get excited when there was a panting redhead clinging to him, begging to be taken. What sort of lottery had he won, exactly?

He grunted, pulling away and walking them blindly over to the bed. Ron had been forced to change the blankets every morning due to their _activities_, and after tonight, they would no doubt have to do it again…

They fell onto the cushy surface of Ron's bed. The bed that had already witnessed so much debauchery in the few days they had been here. Harry immediately pulled at Ron's jumper only to discover that there was another infuriating shirt under it. Didn't he know that wearing so many layers made it harder to get to him? Harry yanked that one off too, and moved to take care of his own t-shirt. Ron's hands worked quickly at the button on Harry's jeans, but he seemed to get confused at the zipper.

"What the bloody hell?" Ron muttered, feeling it curiously and only succeeding in making Harry harder with the prolonged touch.

Harry laughed when he realized Ron had probably never encountered one before. Despite Ron's nymph-like abilities in getting him worked up so quickly, he was still adorable.

"Here," Harry chuckled, reaching down and undoing it himself.

When Harry had been shopping discreetly for clothes in Diagon Alley, having slipped away in order to find something acceptable to wear that didn't fit like a tent, he had noticed a distinct lack of certain things. In muggle clothes, there were usually zippers and snaps and all different style of clasps to do up various bits of clothing. But when he was surrounded by wizard attire, or what wizards considered 'muggle clothes' for blending into the public, he had noticed that buttons and string-ties ran rampant through all articles of clothing, not just a few. Apparently, some things were just too complicated for the common wizard to figure out.

The particular pair of jeans he was wearing now happened to be a very old pair of Dudley's that miraculously fit him. They were the only ones. It must have been through one of Dudley's 'thin' phases, if it could be considered that. There had been a point where he had appeared less fat than usual during one of his growth spurts.

Not wanting thoughts of his horrid cousin to turn him off, Harry marked Ron's actions as 'cute' and ducked down to snog him again.

Ron responded eagerly, throwing his arms around Harry's neck and pulling him closer, if possible. Harry ravaged the other boy's mouth, feeling both of their tongues fighting against each other, yet embracing at the same time as if long-lost friends. He reached down between them to work at Ron's trousers as well. Ron grunted slightly, pushing his hips up at the contact, and Harry quickly undid them and shoved them down his legs. He could feel the warm, bare chest against his own, hear the heavy panting of the boy beneath him. Harry didn't know if he could handle the anticipation of what he was about to do.

As he pulled his own shirt quickly over his head, nearly knocking his glasses off, Harry wondered how different it would feel to be the instigator this time. Whenever Ron did it, pushing into his body for the first time, he sounded like he was either in a great deal of pleasure or ready to pass out, since his voice usually sounded a bit strangled and gruff. Would it feel the same for Harry, or would it be different? Also, what if Ron was hurt? He didn't think he could stay hard if he knew Ron was in pain the whole time. He was new to this after all. What if Harry did it wrong?

As Ron's trousers, pants, and the rest of Harry's clothing fell to the floor and out of sight, he wondered if Ron had experienced the same crippling anxiety before his first time, too. Good lord, he didn't know what he was doing.

"Are you sure about this?" he said nervously, looking down at Ron's naked body. The moon made him look slightly pale, but his muscled shoulders, lean stomach, and the sprinkling of freckles that stood out across his cheeks more than made up for it.

"Yeah," Ron nodded, resting his hand on Harry's leg.

Harry was sitting atop him, their privates touching rather blatantly. But even with the perfect view and Ron's cock nestled against his own, he couldn't help but feel anxious.

"You know I have no idea what the bloody hell I'm doing, right?" he said hopefully.

"I reckon you'll get the hang of it once you start," Ron smirked. "Then, you can fuck me as much as you want."

Good lord.

"Alright," Harry muttered, blushing. He leaned forward again and kissed Ron to stall as much as he could. They snogged once more, Ron's soft lips making him feel a bit better about all this, and Harry reached down to take him in hand.

Ron grunted, his hips jerking slightly at Harry's touch. He was quite hard already, despite them having just started. Harry groaned when he realized that perhaps Ron was a bit more 'okay' with this than he let on. Perhaps Ron would enjoy it just the same. After all, _he_ hadn't been experienced before either, and Harry had been reduced to a mess both times they had done this with him on the receiving end…

Ron's hand wandered blindly next to them, feeling along the edge of the end table until it reached the drawer. His breathing was heavy as Harry stroked slowly, watching Ron trying to get the bottle out. He realized that, eventually, he would have to make some sort of move here that went beyond the simple wanking of Ron's cock.

Harry reluctantly reached over and took it out for him, since Ron appeared to be having trouble anyways.

"So, I just…" Harry trailed off, feeling stupid. His cheeks were ablaze with humiliation as he asked his boyfriend what the bloody hell he should do first.

"You've got to work up to it," Ron said, his face slightly pink. "Like I always do, you know…"

"Okay," Harry sighed.

He unstoppered the bottle and dipped his fingers in, remembering how Ron went about it the first time. He had been gentle, and slow, thankfully, which had made the experience probably less painful than it could have been. Harry only hoped he went about it the same way…

He felt Ron nibbling at his neck, which made it rather hard to concentrate on what he was about to do. He was trying to get into the mindset of how to properly defile his boyfriend, yet Ron kept making him even randier…

Harry put his hand between Ron's legs, and arms came up around his neck again to hold onto him. It was different, Harry thought. Having someone beneath you, clinging onto you like this, was much different than being at their mercy. It was certainly a change from the usual position he found himself in, legs spread wide open while Ron had his way. Yet Ron's moan as Harry pushed a slicked finger into him was insanely arousing…

"Mph," Harry felt Ron's grip around his neck tighten, and his grunt was muffled by Ron's shoulder.

Harry kissed the skin there, hoping that he wasn't hurt. He couldn't see Ron's face, being held rather forcibly by his strong grip, so he had to go by sound. Judging by the short breaths and grinding hips, he wasn't particularly uncomfortable…

"Oh," he breathed against Harry's ear, making him shiver. Harry used his other arm to wrap around Ron's torso, flattening his palm against his back simply for it to have somewhere to be.

"Is that okay?" Harry asked, moving his hand slowly to get Ron used to the feeling.

"Uh! Yeah…" he gasped, thrusting his hips upward again. Harry felt Ron's hardness rub against his own and had to close his eyes to not react.

He had to keep this slow if Ron was so unused to the feeling. But if Ron kept up the breathless noises and constant rubbing against him, Harry didn't think he could take it. He pushed his own hips forward to try and ease some of the tension, get something to hold him off, yet Ron's breathy moan signaled that the sensation of their cocks slipping together was only succeeding in making him more excited. Thus, Harry became more so as well.

"Uhh…it feels so good when you're in me," Ron sighed, gripping another fistful of his hair.

His voice was so different compared to the teasing, naughty tone that it usually took on. The whimpers and sighs as Harry pushed another lubed finger in were quite a change from the norm. However, his words were just as vulgar as ever, and still made Harry shiver from the sound.

"Mph…I can't wait till you fuck me…I want to feel all of you…"

Harry groaned, keeping his face buried in the crook of Ron's neck. He could feel heavy breaths against his ear, small bites placed along his shoulder, and the occasional buck of Ron's hips when Harry pushed his fingers in all the way. Ron would moan and squirm, panting the entire time as if he were almost overwhelmed by the sensation. Occasionally, he would cry out softly whenever Harry grazed that magical spot inside, which he tried not to do _too_ often. He knew the unbearable feeling of being teased there in the heat of the moment, and he didn't want Ron to come this way.

Harry grimaced, since he knew what his next move should be. Ron was feeling rather loose now (a thought which made Harry's face heat up a great deal), and was clearly ready to be stretched a bit further. He obviously had to be, if Harry's cock were to even fit in there... But Harry didn't know if he could do it.

Taking a deep breath, he slowly worked in a third finger, making sure Ron knew what was happening so that it wasn't a surprise. Ron's grip around him tightened again, and his breath faltered slightly. Otherwise, he took it rather well.

Soon, he was panting again, Harry purposely trying to find that spot inside him now to hopefully take away his focus on the pain. It was easier to forget about the stretch when you were drowning in pleasure, a warm tingling spreading through your body each time it was struck. Harry also pushed their hips together again, seeking that glorious friction between them that always made both boys moan with need. He had to have something to stave off his own erection…

"You okay?" Harry asked, not really needing to raise his voice since he was right next to Ron's ear anyways.

Ron nodded, ruffling his hair in confirmation.

Harry pumped his fingers a few more times, making sure Ron was as ready as he could be. He could feel his own cock begging for him to hurry up. The anticipation of what he was about to do, how he would soon be thrusting into the boy beneath him, was nearly overwhelming. At the same time, he was still a bit nervous. Ron's whimpers and moans distracted him from it a bit, but there was no mistaking his own hesitance.

Unable to find any way of stalling further, and not really wanting to at the same time, Harry pulled his hand back and his fingers slipped from Ron's body. He sat back up, looking down at the redhead.

He was the picture of arousal, with pink cheeks and ruffled hair. His freckles made him look so innocent, and his arms were splayed out in a way that looked like surrender. Harry gulped, feeling his heart beating rather fast. It was a sight that certainly made him eager to move onward.

"You ready?" Harry asked, putting his hand on Ron's thighs.

"Yeah," Ron nodded again, blue eyes shining in the dim light. "It's okay, you know. I'm alright. Don't be scared."

Harry scoffed. Was he really that transparent?

"Is it that obvious?" he said, sighing.

"You look cute when you're nervous," was all Ron said. He smirked and reached over to the end table, grasping the bottle of lubricant, and offered it to Harry.

Harry nodded and took it. If Ron wasn't worried, then he wouldn't be either. At least, that's what he told himself for now.

He poured some into his hand and set the bottle back on the table with a _clink!_ Harry then spread it around a bit in his palm, feeling the coolness of the oily liquid. He knew immediately that it was going to feel wonderful on him, as it always did when he was so worked up. Reluctantly, he reached down and carefully took himself in hand. As he suspected, it felt marvelous. The cool substance and the feel of his hand squeezing around him made him exhale in a shaky way, for he had gone so long without much relief from Ron's erotic noises and the warm body pressed against him. It took a great effort, but Harry stopped stroking himself as soon as he knew he was well-coated in the lube. If he hadn't, he probably would just wank himself and come right there on Ron's stomach.

He reached up and used the rest on Ron's cock too, just for good measure. Harry didn't want him to be uncomfortable through the whole thing if their movements got a bit…vigorous.

Ron's hips shoved up when Harry touched him, which made Harry chuckle.

When he was finished making everything shiny and oily, the sight of which only enhanced his excitement, Harry leaned forward, but hesitated.

"How do you want to…I mean, which way do you want to…be?" he asked awkwardly.

Ron seemed to have not anticipated this, because he looked rather surprised.

"Oh…I dunno. Which way is better, do you think?" Ron asked. He spoke in a way that hinted they were merely talking about the weather.

"Er…I…" Harry blushed hard. "I guess it felt a bit…looser…the other way. On my stomach."

But had that been because he simply liked having Ron behind him like that, or because it actually was? It had been his second time, as well, so perhaps he was more used to it then. Why did things have to be so complicated…

"Well, let's do it like that then," Ron said before Harry could add anything else. He flipped over with a lot more agility than it looked like he had possessed a moment ago, and the next thing, Harry was staring at his arse.

He allowed his eyes to wander upward. They roamed over his toned back, his strong shoulders that glistened slightly from their exertion, and the firm biceps that were visible, contracting and flexing as he positioned himself on his stomach…

Harry swallowed, feeling a bit _too_ eager now...

"You ready, then?" he asked, placing a hand above Ron's arse so that he knew he was there.

"Yeah," Harry saw the back of his head nod.

Harry leaned forward nervously, taking a few breaths to try and calm his heart down, and carefully felt around for Ron's arse. When he felt his fingers slip in easily, he knew that was as good as it was probably going to be. So, he sat up on his knees, positioned his cock at the spot it so desperately wanted to enter, and pushed as gently as he could.

Ah. Now he could see why Ron sounded so desperately randy whenever he did this.

Harry actually had to close his eyes in order to keep control of himself. With the constricting feeling around the head of his cock, which was barely inside Ron as it were, Harry immediately thought that he would have to do this again, and soon.

_Easy Harry, remember to not be an arse…_

Yes, he had to concentrate. He leaned forward slightly and propped himself up, putting his arms on either side of Ron's body to use the bed for leverage. Ron had yet to say anything, but his back looked rather rigid and his breath sounded a bit shallow. Harry lifted one of his hands again and placed it on the side of Ron's hip. He had to know to relax, which was understandably hard to do when trying to take someone's dick…

However, if he went at an agonizingly slow pace, it would undoubtedly be easier for Ron to adjust. So, he did just that. Despite every cell in his body screaming for him to thrust forward with abandon and forget about the person beneath him, the way Ron's head was turned to the side showed just a few innocent freckles on his cheek. Freckles that brought to mind vibrant blue eyes that always shown like sapphires, no matter what type of lighting hit them. His red hair was stuck up in the back, ruffled from their excitement and the general activity throughout the day. His eyes were closed tight, and his plump bottom lip was hidden in a look of discomfort.

"Does it hurt?" Harry asked, knowing the answer already.

"A bit," he said breathlessly.

"Sorry, I can stop if you want me too…"

"No, it's okay," he added stubbornly.

"Alright," Harry sighed. "Just try and relax, it'll get better."

"Promise?" Ron said. Harry could see a smirk forming on his face again.

Harry leaned down and nipped at the shell of his ear, grinning. "I promise."

Harry hesitated, and then continued pushing forward. Ron's shoulders tensed again and Harry could see his grip on the blankets tighten. He had to do something to distract him, other than banter. He could remember his first time, and what Ron had done for him.

Harry used his grip on Ron's side to ease him up a bit, lifting his hips slightly off the bed. He then slid his hand around to Ron's front and followed a small trail of short red hairs down to his goal. Finally, his fingers closed around the other boy's erection, which was thankfully still slick from the lube. Ron's breath hitched and he ducked his head while Harry squeezed around him roughly. The delicious little whine that followed as Harry continued to push forth, while wanking him at the same time, made Harry grunt with the effort of restraining himself again. Never had he heard another boy make such lovely sounds as Ron did…

Finally, after what seemed like bloody eternity, Harry felt his hips bump against Ron's, signaling that he was fully seated in the redhead. Ron's head still hung slightly as he was propped up on him elbows, but his breathing had gone back to the heavy panting of earlier. At least he was enjoying himself, and not concentrating on the uncomfortable stretch that Harry so remembered. But with that stretch came an odd fullness that, once recognized, made him crave as he was being mercilessly taken by the very boy he was on top of now. Harry leaned upright, placing his legs inside Ron's to ease them out a bit wider. He smoothed his hand along Ron's spine, trying to calm him as well as fight off the carnal desire still clawing inside his own chest.

Ron's body surrounding him, the erection so firmly buried within the youngest Weasley boy, felt insanely tight. It made wanking in comparison look like a pebble would appear in the face of a mountain. It constricted around his cock, squeezing around him in every direction, making him sure that he would rather be here than anywhere else in the world. Hell, in the universe. He suspected that the Earth could be coming down around him and he would _not_ leave the tight heat of Ron's arse.

"You okay?" he murmured against the back of Ron's shoulder, giving an open-mouthed kiss there for good measure.

"Uhn, yeah," Ron said, sounding a bit desperate.

"What's the matter?" Harry said, feeling a bit afraid. His hand faltered on Ron's cock, slowing as he grew concerned. "Does it still hurt that bad?"

"No…" Harry could see from the side of his face that his cheeks were growing darker. Ron's hand clutched at the blanket again. "Just…really turned on…"

Harry paused for a moment, then chuckled.

"Well, that's good, because it's sort of the point of all this," he said, running his hand along Ron's back again. He squeezed a bit harder with his opposite hand around the other boy's erection, drawing a short moan for his efforts. "So, you like it when I do this, then?"

"Mhh…yeah…" Ron whined. His hips pushed back slightly, towards Harry's cock, and he took that as a signal to continue.

He pulled back slowly, feeling a delightful friction as he did, and pushed forward again as gently as he could manage. Ron stiffened again and the blanket seemed to be getting hell from his grip, but Harry continued to stroke Ron through it to try and ease him into relaxing. Once he did, Harry wouldn't feel so guilty anymore for hurting the only boy who had shown him as much kindness…

As Harry continued in short, soft thrusts, trying to ease into a gentle rhythm, his breathing got heavier from the constricting sensation. As he pulled up Ron's erection, feeling the tightness of his arse with each slow push into him, Harry heard slight gasps from the redhead beneath him. They were soft, but not pained like Harry had feared they would be. His grip on the blankets had loosened, and his torso dropped to the bed again. Harry looked down at the expanse of flesh before him, Ron's muscled shoulders and lengthy spine, and saw his own hand clutching desperately at Ron's hip to try and ground himself. He eased his grip, not wanting to bruise him, but the feel of his firm arse beneath Harry's fingers made it so that he couldn't move away completely. It was strange, how much the sight of the dip in Ron's back made his mouth water. The elegant curve there made him seem more vulnerable, or perhaps more willingly submissive. His gaze wandered to where their bodies met, the sight of his cock slowly being pushed into the other boy's body. Harry groaned, looking away, unable to stare at it without going mad and abandoning all decency.

He leaned forward again, reluctantly moving his hand from Ron's hip to the bed in order to prop himself up still. His thrusts became a bit faster with his need, Ron's gasps turning to soft moans. He could feel Ron's back pressed against his bare chest, the heat of his skin transferring onto Harry's. Ron's lips parted as he panted openly, his head turned to the side again. Harry could see that his eyes were closed, and his cheeks were flushed adorably. He would make small noises when Harry would squeeze around him, and Harry felt his hips push back more than once.

But, when he threaded a hand into Ron's hair and pushed Ron's hips down towards the bed a bit more, that was when he heard a breathy moan that was different from the others.

"Is that it?" Harry whispered, thrusting a bit slower in the same direction he had just a second ago.

"Uh!" Ron cried, turning more towards the pillow. "Y-yes…"

Harry leaned down further to place more kisses along Ron's neck, feeling his chest meet flush with his back. He began thrusting a bit harder, stroking Ron firmly, who started writhing slightly as he whimpered. His hips bucked helplessly against Harry's, but Harry continued to keep up a steady pace, knowing for himself that it was a wonderful feeling. The deep shocks radiating through your body as the boy behind you pounded roughly…

However, now he wasn't the one feeling such things._ He_ was the one who had his cock surrounded by a glorious heat, who was penetrating the sweet, tight arse of another willing body. He could feel Ron's desperation, hear the sighs and moans of his partner as they both took their pleasure in their own way. The sight of Ron's hand occasionally gripping the sheets tight told him when he was doing well, and the burning in his own midsection told him when he was already so close. But he had to last for Ron, like Ron always did for him.

"Oh," Ron whined, burying his face into the pillow. His breathing was uneven and his skin glistened slightly in the dim light from outside.

"Are you close?" Harry asked, wondering if he interpreted the signs right.

He saw Ron's head nod, his flaming hair forming an adorable single curl on the back of his neck. Harry thanked the stars, because he wasn't sure if he would have been able to hold out for much longer.

Ron cried out again, turning his head, probably in order to breathe better.

"Mmm…" he hummed, gripping the pillow roughly. "Make me come, Harry…"

Harry closed his eyes. Of all the times for Ron's naughty words to show up, it was always when he was in least need of them…

In order to distract Ron from saying any more, Harry began nipping at his shoulder, which he seemed to like. Ron moaned and squirmed, his hips bucking slightly to meet each of Harry's thrusts. Harry stroked firmly at his erection, feeling warm skin against his own, between his teeth, around his cock... Ron was everywhere, and Harry loved it.

Ron tensed and his breath came out harshly. Harry recognized the blank look in his eye, the rising volume to his moans, and the pause in his hips that signaled the approach of orgasm. He thrust harder, sank his teeth into Ron's shoulder, and pumped the boy's erection quickly.

"Mhh…ah!" Ron cried breathlessly, the blankets once again being crushed by his grip.

Harry felt Ron's body tense, felt the constricting feeling around his cock intensify. He grunted, closing his eyes at the wonderful sensation, and vaguely registered Ron's cum flooding over his hand as he continued to stroke diligently. Ron whimpered openly into the room, his breathy moans making Harry mesmerized by the sound. It should have been illegal to be that attractive.

However, Ron _was_ very attractive, and about ten times more so mid-orgasm. His cries died down and his body went lax again, and Harry felt the last drops of him empty. He grunted, pulling his hand away from Ron's spent cock and placing it back on his hip.

Knowing he had a bit more freedom now, Harry held Ron's waist to keep his hips up and continued to pound roughly into that tight arse. He was so close it was a wonder he hadn't come already, but it was definitely fast approaching. Ron's panting and gasps continued as Harry thrust deep into him, taking full advantage of his relaxed state.

But, unfortunately, all good things eventually come to an end.

Harry moaned and let his head fall back as he was finally wrenched into sweet release. The waves washed over his body, concentrated in his pulsing erection, pulling his seed from him by force. He gripped Ron tightly, his pace turning erratic and desperate as he thrust through his orgasm, his thoughts turning muddled from the pleasure. He could feel Ron's taut flesh beneath his fingers, feel himself coming inside another's body. It was nearly mind-blowing as he thought of what he was actually doing to Ron.

When it faded, and when he finally managed to regain control of himself, Harry slowed and eventually stopped, panting heavily. Ron was doing the same, and Harry could see his flushed face as it turned to the side again.

Exhaling shakily, Harry leaned down, pecked Ron on the crimson cheek, and gently eased himself backward. He felt his softening cock slip out inelegantly. Ron winced, but otherwise lay there looking completely relaxed and at peace.

Harry managed to shuffle over and lay down beside him, a lot more tired than he usually was after shagging. His stomach felt tight from constantly thrusting for so long, and his arms were worn out from simultaneously holding himself up and stroking Ron for a vast majority of the encounter. Being the top was a bit more work, as he had suspected.

However, Ron looked worn out in a different way, which Harry was all too familiar with.

"You okay?" he asked, sniggering at the way Ron's cheek was smashed against the pillow. He still managed to look adorable, of course, since his freckles stood out against his blush.

Blue eyes wandered up (leisurely taking their time to roam over Harry's naked body), and finally met his green ones.

"Yeah," Ron said simply, still a bit out of breath.

"That's good. I didn't hurt you, did I?" Harry added nervously.

Ron scoffed. "No. I mean, it was…different. But good."

Ron always had a way of putting things simply, but truly.

"Same here," Harry said, grinning.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note Again: <strong>Well, I think only one person suspected that it wasn't Ginny, so congratulations to Geo Nova. You get to keep all your gold after all! I do love reading all of your speculations though, even if Ginny's rage would only magnify were she able to read the amount of hate geared towards her. Because I'm a whore for reviews, I would also like to propose another one-shot offer if the amount of reviews reaches the 200-mark this time. If you'd like to make a suggestion for a pairing (which will undoubtedly involve sex, because again, I'm a whore), _any _pairing at all, put it in the review and once the counter reaches 200, I will pick one and write a one-shot about it. I'm working on about three one-shots right now, so one day you're all just gonna get a flood of alerts saying that they're all posted. However, I will put this new one on top of my priority list when the time comes.

Anyways, what did you think of Harry laying down the dick for once? The end of Christmas break is approaching. What will happen when Harry and Ron go back to school? What sort of perverted things can they manage to fit into so little time? What will the reaction be from the other students from Rita Skeeter's meddling once they return? Oh, the suspense...


	27. Post

**Author's Note: **Hello. My name is Jerkface. I haven't updated in about two months.

So, I know I said I would put the one-shot as my top priority, but I didn't figure being a Jerkface into the mix, so I'm updating this now. I wish I could say I was working on this chapter the entire time I was gone, but I wasn't. I wrote the first 1/4 of this chapter over two months, and then the last 3/4 I finished last night at one in the morning. Don't ask me how I work, I don't understand it either. Oh, and apparently I'm not dying, because we figured out that my allergies and an _almost _ear-infection were the cause of my headaches. They are now gone as long as I take a bunch of shit like claritin and stuff like that. Perhaps that's why inspiration struck so suddenly, because I can actually think again! Damn Wrackspurts, making my brain fuzzy...

But I've rambled enough. I'm sorry for disappearing, blah blah, here's your chapter. To make up for being a Jerkface, I made it long, and about 60% sex. Honestly, I don't know how this story has any plot with all the smut interrupting everything...

Oh yeah, mild warning for one offensive term, which you'll undoubtedly see when it comes.

* * *

><p>At breakfast the next morning, Ron had been unsurprised when the window had to be left open for the entire meal. The steady flow of owls coming to and from the house was too great, and therefore meant that someone had to jump up every few minutes at the tapping of a beak on glass. Eventually, they didn't even bother closing the pane, and instead took the owls at the table. Feathers littered the surface.<p>

The first had been a slightly panicked letter from Seamus. Ron had wondered what his reaction would be.

"Oi, look," he said, laughing and reading it aloud quietly so that only Harry could hear:

_To Ron (and Harry, I suppose. I guess I should address you together now. That's weird…),_

_I'm sure you know how shocked I was when I saw the Prophet this morning! I can't believe that Skeeter woman even dared! Well, yes I can, actually. But I just wanted you to know that I obviously had no hand in it, which I'm sure you know anyways, but I just want to be clear! __Merlin, everyone at school will know too! This is probably the worst thing that can happen to you guys, I hope people don't __You both know that I'm pulling for you, right? If anyone tries to give you any trouble, you know I'll be with you tossers no matter what. After all, blokes 'like us' have to stick together._

_Don't let it get you down,_

_Seamus_

_(P.S. If you show this letter to anybody else, consider your arses mine.)_

_(P. P. S. Not gonna lie, that picture of you two is pretty hot.)_

"That was nice of him," Harry said, looking pleasantly surprised. "Well, sort of..."

"I like the last part," Ron added. "Seems I'm to fend off all the other boys with a stick in order to keep you to myself."

"I think I can do my own fending, thanks," Harry said flatly, taking a bite of sausage.

"Tch, yeah right. Well, before I have to beat his head in, I suppose we can see how it goes for him and De – " he cut off abruptly, feeling his heart nearly jump out of his chest. Ron's eyes flitted briefly to the end of the table, where his sister was located, in full ear-shot of the whole conversation. Harry seemed to notice his near slip-up too, because he gave Ron a warning look before continuing the conversation.

"At least he's supportive though. _This _time," Harry added rather bitterly.

"Yeah. Seems to have learned his lesson," Ron smirked, looking up at him from the parchment. "Everyone knows you don't fuck with Harry Potter."

Harry chuckled and rolled his eyes. However, Ron leaned closer to whisper his next part.

"Of course, they don't know how good he is at it…"

He laughed when he saw Harry's skin go aflame. He was no doubt recalling the events from last night, which had definitely been blush-worthy.

Ron had never thought that feeling so utterly helpless would be so…arousing. Harry had been the one to set the pace last night, not himself like usual. Even during their desperate humping and frenzied groping back at the school, Ron had always been more the instigator during those times. It wasn't some sort of complex or anything. Ron had no problem with being the…receiver of things, as was clearly demonstrated last night. In fact, it was bloody fantastic, he thought. It just had always been him to do the naughtier side of things because Harry was a bit shy (sometimes), and he seemed to like it anyways. The way his breath would get all heavy when Ron would touch him, or clutch at his hair, or push him down to get at a better angle. It was always a sign that Harry _liked _when Ron did things that were a bit more possessive. It didn't take a genius to figure it out.

But, he had always been open to the idea that one day, Harry would probably want to branch out and try it on for once. It wasn't anything that Ron opposed, he just waited until Harry showed signs of wanting a change. Plus, the small whimpers and sighs Harry made…the noises he was capable of emitting…they were dangerous. Ron would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy every second of being the more 'forward' one in any encounter…

But when Harry had touched him in the most intimate of places during what Ron thought was going to be an average sucking (although 'average' didn't mean any less mind-blowing than usual), it had clearly showed some lingering desire in the other boy for a more active role. Ron had figured that perhaps he was more curious than he let on after that. It had looked like Harry was enjoying being the more dominant one that time, but the way he hesitantly brought up a finger while Ron was at his most distracted (a.k.a. having his cock in the mouth of someone else) meant that he probably wasn't comfortable asking outright. Ron figured that he was perhaps just too hesitant to ask for a higher position whilst shagging too. So, Ron had simply brought it up himself, and encouraged Harry to do what he probably already wanted to do, but was too nervous to ask for.

He hadn't completely been lying about his own interest, either. Ron had been curious about how it would feel to have a cock in his arse, for Harry always seemed to enjoy it so much. His whimpering cries whenever Ron pushed into him nearly brought Ron to abandon all and just pound away at that arse for hours. The way he sounded as though he were so pleasured, yet so frustrated made Ron curious as to how different it felt.

At first, it had been rather uncomfortable, he'd admit. But then, once Harry had gotten into things, and once Ron had figured out how to bloody relax his arse, it had turned out really well. It was different, of course. Having someone behind you, thrusting into _you_ when you were usually the one bringing _them_ pleasure certainly brought things into a different perspective. He wasn't able to control the speed, or how Harry touched him, but it had felt so good all the same... He had been completely at the mercy of the other boy, and it had turned out fantastic.

Ron realized he had been staring at Harry the entire time during his musings. Apparently Harry could tell what he was thinking about, too, because his face was steadily getting darker while his emerald eyes remained fixed on the table.

The next letter was from Hermione, and it was reassuring as expected. She told them to not worry about the possible consequences, and that she would naturally be by their side to jinx Malfoy into oblivion for them. Though, Ron was rather looking forward to doing it himself.

Then one from Neville came, sounding slightly nervous in its overall presentation. However, Neville was a bit braver now than he used to be, and he offered his full support now that they were 'out in the open and all that stuff'. He also asked if either of them had seen the jumper that his grandmother had knit him, because it appeared to be missing and the woman wasn't too thrilled about it.

After that, it had gotten a bit ugly.

"Uh-oh…" said Bill, who had taken the liberty of helping them open the increasing amount of envelopes.

"What?" Ron asked, turning to his oldest brother.

"Er…nothing."

"Liar. Give it here," he reached over and snatched the parchment out of Bill's hands before he could throw it in the bin.

Though, he rather wished he hadn't.

The letter was full of all manner of slurs, some of which Ron wasn't entirely sure on the meaning of. However, most of them undoubtedly had to do with Harry's newly revealed orientation, and they sounded rather unpleasant.

"Well, looks like we can cross him off the 'supporters' list," Harry said over his shoulder.

"Which is a shame, because he sounds like _such _a nice bloke already," Ron spat, throwing the letter out of his sight.

That was the start of the 'violently incinerate' pile.

Ron wasn't too hurt _himself_ on the letter, really. They were, after all, just badly-scribbled words on the surface of parchment. However, they were words directed at _his_ boyfriend, and he was quickly beginning to recall the magnitude of his feelings for Harry as his rage boiled beneath the surface of his skin. The bad letters didn't stop, either. Every nasty word, every curse and vile thing thrown in Harry's direction, meant just for 'the Chosen One', made him slightly shocked at how furious they made him. He wished, in the deepest corner of his soul, to secretly track down and murder such people who could say such horrid things about him. Horrid things about the boy who, just a few days ago, they had worshipped like an idol.

Had he not done enough to prove his worth? Had Harry suffered every other thing under the bloody sun, only to be thrown away by something that hardly mattered at all? He had conquered a powerful, raving lunatic, lost his family in the process, fought an all manner of beasts and foul things on this planet simply to stay _alive_, and all they cared about was who he shagged. Not the fact that he had saved thousands of people, or constantly sacrificed his own needs for the good of others. No, that hardly mattered at all. He was into blokes.

"Some people," Ron growled, throwing away yet another letter full of atrocities.

"Ron, it's okay, they're just nutters," Harry said, waving a hand. Even he, however, looked a bit stiff in his movements. A howler had been chucked out the window without care, but it could still be heard echoing across the front lawn.

" – _LITTLE FAGGOTTY ARSE SNOGGING ON THE FRONT PAGE WHILE I WAS TRYING TO DRINK MY MORNING TEA – "_

"I thought we couldn't even receive letters from these people," Ron said harshly, looking up at his mother.

"We had to replace the charms on the house," she said, looking sympathetic instead of scolding him for his tone. "I had hoped they would be finished by this morning, but…well…they're taking longer to set, I suppose."

"Merlin, I hope they do soon," Charlie sighed, opening yet another envelope.

"Yeah, we won't be able to keep up with this lot," George added, holding two letters at once.

The agony continued for what seemed like another hour, long after breakfast had actually been finished. However, then the charms seemed to have finally worked, because the onslaught of owls was cut off abruptly. The last letter was torn open, and Ron let his head drop to the parchment-ridden table surface.

"That was horrible," he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck.

He felt Harry's hand replace his, and was slightly relieved by the gesture. Then he felt rather guilty, because most of the letters had been directed at Harry himself, not Ron. The other boy had much more reason to be worn than _he _did.

"You okay?" he asked, turning to see Harry's expression.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged.

"You're not mad, though?" Ron said curiously. "All those horrible names they called you…aren't you upset?"

"Not really. The letters have stopped, at least, and it's not so bad when you look at it," Harry gestured over to the end of the table, and Ron followed his pointing.

It was true. The 'violently incinerate' pile was a lot smaller than the 'support' pile, which seemed almost twice as big. At least, in the scope of things, _most _of the world didn't hate them. It was a good thing Harry was able to look on the bright side, because all Ron could remember was the nasty letters, each one burned into his memory. If he ever ran across someone who had those people's names, they would regret ever reading _the Daily Prophet_…

"It's okay, Harry," Fred said, looking rather guilty again. This was, after all, entirely his fault.

"Yeah, we can do some promotional stuff with the shop, in order to help with it all," George added.

"That's okay, you don't have to do that," Harry said, shaking his head. "I can handle it. Plus, you might lose sales or something…"

"Even though it _is _your fault," Ron shot.

"Ron…" Harry sighed exasperatedly.

"They weren't the ones snogging in the middle of the orchard," Ginny muttered, sipping her tea delicately.

A brief moment of silence followed this, her statement hanging in the air like the effect of some sort of war bugle.

Ron stood abruptly, his control beginning to crack. Never had he been so longing to strike a female, especially a member of his own family, but he managed to keep his hands braced on the table's surface instead. The invasion of privacy from _the Prophet_, the rush of hateful letters, Ginny's snooty little remarks…

"Harry's done more for all of _you_ than you can even imagine," Ron spat, pushing away from the table. "Not to mention saved one stupid little girl from a Chamber not long ago. Though I can't remember her name, can _you_ Gin?"

He took great pleasure in her expression, which looked as though he actually _had _gone with his instinct and slapped her across the face. He pushed open the door and thundered up the stairs, not caring who heard his raging footsteps.

It was only seconds after Ron slammed his bedroom door that Harry opened it again.

He walked over and sat firmly next to him, both of them perched at the end of his bed. The orange of his Chudley Cannons bedspread was loud, as usual, especially in the wake of the heavy silence that filled the room. Ron was silent because he was still fuming, but Harry seemed rather tentative.

Finally, he spoke.

"You seem to be more upset about all this than I am," Harry said rather blatantly.

"Well, _somebody _has to be," Ron shot.

Silence again.

It didn't make any sense for Harry not to be angry. Last year he had been nearly unbearable, so angst-ridden that any question asked to him always had the chance of being taken as offensive and answered with a snarl. But then things had turned back to normal, and Ron figured that everyone's gossiping had been finished with. Of course, Ron had been angry the first time stories about Harry had been published, angry that everyone had turned on the boy who had already suffered so much. To think that Harry was lying about his ordeal in the graveyard was ludicrous. The night Ceric died, the night You-Know-Who came back, was the first time Ron had ever seen Harry shed a single tear. Of course he had believed his best friend wasn't mad, and of course he had stuck by his side. But now it was different. Now Ron wasn't just a friend who resorted to secretly jinxing people when Harry wasn't looking. He was closer, even more involved than before, because everything that happened to Harry seemed to also directly affect him. He couldn't explain it, it was just different.

Well, there was a certain word that would explain such a thing, but Ron would have to refrain from thinking that for a while.

"I dunno Ron," Harry sighed, flopping back on the bed. "I mean, yeah, I am angry. But I'm more dreading what Hogwarts is gonna be like now. Not to mention more attention being focused on me that I _don't _need. Plus the fact that everyone knows who I'm dating, which I wouldn't particularly want revealed even if you _were _a bird. And there's the fact that I'll probably have to respond to this now, or be marked a coward or something. Hell, I'll _have _to confirm it. There's no real way to deny a snog like that…"

Ron felt even more guilty as Harry listed off the other problems. He shouldn't be blundering around, shouting at his family members. He should be paying attention to things like this.

"But the worst thing is that you're dragged into this now, and that's pretty much what pisses me off the most," Harry muttered.

"Naturally," Ron chuckled, shaking his head. It figured that the smallest thing would cause him the most worry, merely because it affected those close to him.

"Shut up."

"Make me," he smirked.

"You shouldn't have said that, Weasley, because you know where this is gonna go."

"Dur, that's _why_ I said it," Ron countered. He raised a playful eyebrow, noticing Harry's defiant expression. They stared each other down for quite a while.

He was too cute when he blushed like that.

"Arse," Harry cracked, looking away to try and hide his smile.

Ron laughed. He flopped down next to the other boy, pulling him back around. It was impossible for him not to kiss those plump lips he so fancied. So, that was what he did.

His tongue immediately slipped into Harry's mouth, so practiced by now that it was almost a reflex. He felt Harry respond lazily, breath hot and slow as it mingled between them. He felt his lip tugged by teeth, and returned the favor a few times before tasting the minty tingle of Harry's mouth again. He was so warm, even during a winter day such as this. The pleasant heat of his body warmed Ron's as he moved on top of him. His hands found wild, silky strands to hold onto, and a small groan escaped the other boy. Ron felt the frame of Harry's glasses bump against his eyebrow as he tilted to snog more deeply, unable to get enough of him. No matter what time of day it was, or how much turmoil was going on around them, kissing Harry never lost its appeal. Eventually, his lips wandered over to Harry's jawline, where they nipped and sucked the tender skin there.

"Isn't this what got us into trouble in the first place?" Harry said, his voice wavering a bit when Ron's teeth made contact again.

"Let them watch, then," Ron breathed, moving down to Harry's neck. "Not like this isn't hot as hell."

"Still, I wouldn't want anyone writing about you sucking me off," Harry added.

"Who said I was going to suck you off?" he leaned up indignantly.

"Told you to shut up, didn't I?" Harry smirked, though the pink tinge to his cheeks didn't fade. If anything, it intensified when Ron smirked back.

"I dunno…" he said lazily, running his hands slowly up Harry's arms. The other boy shivered when Ron openly groped the skin beneath his sleeves, pushing the thick fabric back to reveal the sexiest forearms Ron knew to be in existence. But when he seized Harry's wrists and pinned them to the bed, emerald eyes widened in surprise. "I seem to recall saying 'make me'," he added mischievously.

Harry growled slightly and Ron felt his resistance. His arms tried to push up, break the hold Ron had on them, but he either wasn't strong enough or was at a bad enough angle to where it didn't have much effect. He did rather enjoy Harry's heavy breathing, though. Plus, the other boy seemed unwilling to give up, perhaps to retain some pride. Ron laughed as he struggled, vainly trying to throw him off. Soon, he felt Harry's hips buck upward in an attempt to gain some leverage.

"Mph, yeah, keep doing that," Ron teased, laughing when Harry glared up at him.

"Arse," he said again, though this time a bit breathlessly.

"Good idea," Ron said, grinning and leaning forward. He laid flush against Harry's chest, pinning him with his body weight, and released one of his arms. This allowed him to snake his hand beneath the struggling boy and roughly grab his taut, firm arse.

Harry yelped, then laughed. His free hand came up and fisted Ron's shirt, though it didn't seem to be trying to push him away anymore.

"So how do we settle this, then?"

Ron looked absently out the window, thinking. He caught a glimpse of several redheads zooming around in the orchard, tossing an equally as red Quaffle back and forth. He smiled.

"Winner gets it first."

* * *

><p>The game had been short lived. Harry, who wasn't nearly as good with a Quaffle as Ron was, had picked the wrong team to accommodate for his lack of skill with the ball. Charlie was more built for Seeking as well, and all they did was fly around as quickly as possible to catch the Snitch. Being a Chaser or a Keeper took thought and quick decision-making, not instinct. It was a simple game of posts, not a full Quidditch match, since they didn't even have Bludgers anyways. So basically, Harry and Charlie were screwed without a Snitch to catch, and Fred wasn't much help for them.<p>

Ron, Bill, and George won by quite a large margin.

Ron liked the feel of his Canons' robes, even if they were the mark of utter failure. They flowed easily and professionally around him with the cold winter's chill, somewhat similar to his Gryffindor ones, but without the thrill of wearing his favorite team's logo. It was a bit sad, really. His favorite team wasn't even the one he played on.

But the bright orange draped over him hadn't affected his skills today, and Harry glared at him from across the snowy field.

None of his brothers knew what they were _really _playing for. The original stakes made at the beginning of the game had been that the losers would do dishes after dinner tonight. But Harry and Ron's bargain was a separate bet, a much more private bet, and Ron had won. He could already feel Harry's lips around him…soft, pink, glistening in the low light…

"Ron, you coming any time soon?"

He tried to hide the furious blush that struck him at his brother's unfortunate wording. Ron had been suspended in midair while everyone else landed below to trash-talk some more about the game, taunting their victims after their defeat. He regrettably pulled himself from his fantasizing and landed clumsily in the snow to join them. Luckily, the robes were loose-fitting, so it didn't show much of his –

"Reckon a deal's a deal," Harry muttered, looking at him with what could only be described as fucking bedroom eyes. Ron gulped, staring back intently.

He wished there weren't so many of his family members around…

But, that wretched sun was still high above them, and would be for several more hours before they could 'turn in' for the night. Everyone made a collective decision to go back to the house for food instead of a rematch. Mounting their brooms one-by-one, they sped off to escape from the cold and seek out their mother's cooking.

As far back as Ron could remember, she had always been a fabulous cook. They didn't have much money, and they never really got any new clothes or expensive trinkets. But the one thing that had remained constant in their lives was that they had always been well fed. In a house full of hungry boys, all of whom seemed to hit a rapid growth spurt every summer, that didn't seem like a very easy feat. His mother slaved away at breakfast, lunch, and dinner, always making hearty home-cooked meals that filled them to their fullest. They ate together as a family at least once every day, and they always enjoyed themselves. If ever a fight were breaking them apart, or one of them was upset over something troubling, meals seemed to be the place where it was all worked out and everyone walked away happy. Food was the one thing they could bond over, and his mother did her best to maintain that. She worked hard to keep the family happy, but it seemed to go unnoticed. Perhaps he should tell her more how much they all really appreciated it…

As the wind whipped his red hair around, he caught sight of a familiar shock that matched his own, this one on the ground however. The stout woman stood in the doorway to the kitchen, beckoning them in cheerfully. This was the woman who had held him when he cried as a child, had eased his worries about trivial things, and had sometimes snuck him an extra biscuit when his brothers were uncharacteristically cruel that day. True, she had overlooked him several times when he was hidden in the shadows of their accomplishments. Accomplishments that he would never get to have first, or be the founder of, because they had already been achieved. But he knew that was just the way it was sometimes, and had learned to live with it. It wasn't her fault if she couldn't pay him every bit of attention he wanted…

Plus, he was a prefect, and on the Quidditch team, and had relatively decent marks at Hogwarts. It wasn't as if he was an utter failure. He just…wasn't good enough.

And he probably never would be.

"Shepherd's pie!" she announced as they landed, not needing to clarify what she meant.

It seemed much like a raid as they all stormed in, carrying brooms and tracking snow across the carpet which she vanished with a lazy flick of her wand. Exclamations of "I'm starving!" and "Bloody cold outside!" were heard as the scrape of chairs echoed among them. Even Harry looked more ravenous than usual, and he was barely fed by the muggles as it were.

The food was desecrated within fifteen minutes.

"Thanks mum," Bill said, slumping back in his chair. Murmurs of agreement followed him, everyone content. They had needed the fuel after the vigorous game.

Ron set his fork down and leaned back, chewing the last of his bread. His robes were soaked nearly all the way through from the snow. At first, when Harry had suggested they play in them the first time, Ron had been a bit leery. They were Canons robes, after all. Could he really risk playing in them outside where they could get ripped, soiled, wet, torn, sun-bleached, burnt, or otherwise harmed by something during a game? But, when he wore them, he felt like he was living some sort of dream of being a professional Quidditch player. And then Harry had put his on, and seeing that taut arse in those robes made him agree wholeheartedly to play in the orange uniforms. He was only human.

"Reckon I'll go take a shower," Harry said, probably meaning no harm in the statement at all. He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, standing slowly.

Ron watched his every move. He couldn't stop his eyes staring at the way he ruffled his own silky, dark hair. How the short strands were carded through so easily with his thin fingers, fingers that seemed a bit soft for a bloke to have. Fingers that felt so good wrapped around his cock. Fingers that had been inside him, or held him steady as Harry's mouth opened to take him in. It was impossible to stop his mind from wandering to the agreement they had made before the game. Perhaps, under the guise of a shower, they wouldn't have to worry about anyone coming to look for them during the day…

He waited a few moments, contemplating what he should do. Ron wasn't sure if Harry would want to shower together even normally, let alone do naughty things during one. Sure, they had seen each other naked before, and done a lot more things to each other than just stood in the other's presence, but washing so close up next to each other seemed like such an intimate thing to do compared to sex. What if Harry didn't want to?

Ron smirked. Perhaps he would just have to ambush him before he got in then. Whether or not they actually made it under the water didn't really matter.

He stood too, hoping he wasn't too late.

"Gonna get out of these things," he tried to say convincingly, indicating his sodden robes. It wasn't entirely untrue, either. "They're right soaking. Mum, could you dry them when I bring them back down?" he added for effect.

"Sure dear," she said absently from the sink.

He walked out of the room, trying to ignore the knowing look Charlie gave him on the way.

* * *

><p>After what felt like the longest journey of his life, Ron managed to approach the bathroom on the floor below his room, which was the one he always had to use. He could hear water running inside, and hoped he wasn't too late. He also hoped Harry wouldn't freak out if he walked in on him naked. But, again, he had seen it before, it shouldn't be that much of a shock…<p>

He hesitantly pushed open the door, being as quiet as he could.

As he peaked around the edge of it, Ron saw Harry dropping a pair of trousers on the tiled floor, closely followed by pants. The bright orange robes were still on him, however, and Ron couldn't stop his eyes from roaming again. They took in the way Harry's arse was hugged by the fabric ever so slightly before it tapered out and hung loosely on all sides. His narrow waist was accented by the fitted robes, pulled tight by all the strings and ties that went into official regulated uniforms. His body was bloody made for them. Well, his body was made for a lot of things. And it looked bloody fabulous doing any of them.

Ron walked in and, before Harry could pull the robes over his head, trapped him between the sink's counter and himself.

Harry made a noise of surprise, apparently not having been aware that he was there. Ron could see why, since Harry's glasses were sitting innocently on the countertop.

"Bloody hell, you trying to kill me?" he said fervently.

Ron laughed and nipped at the delectable skin on his neck.

"No," he answered against it. He could see the backwards Canons' symbol reflected in the mirror before them, a reverse-image of the one on Harry's robes. Ron could also see his own hands snake around the narrow waist, slightly obstructing the emblem when he pulled their bodies flush. He smirked. "Egoroff came to collect his winnings."

"So soon?"

"Did you expect any later?"

"Well, not really," Harry chuckled. "But I'm rather under dressed for the occasion."

"Mmm, that's how I like you best," Ron said lowly, running his hands down Harry's sides. The lack of trousers became apparent when the other boy squirmed slightly beneath his touch. His hands could feel the bare skin that was clung to by the heavy fabric, smooth hips and an arse that was barely protected from his reach.

He pressed forward more, pushing Harry against the counter harder. No doubt Harry could feel the slight erection against him at this, which was probably what caused his breathing to speed up like it did. Simply the sight of Harry so vulnerable made Ron stir in…places.

"You want it now, then?" Harry asked, a bit shakily. "You don't want to wait till later?"

"Hm-mm," Ron responded, catching that smooth flesh between his teeth again. His fingers skimmed forward over Harry's robes, moving downward to grasp something that had a bit more body to it than Ron expected. He laughed.

"Feels like you don't either."

"Shut up," Harry said through a nervous laugh. Ron could see his cheeks growing darker. Though, whether that was because he was being felt-up by a none-too-shy pair of hands, or because he was being teased verbally, Ron couldn't tell. What he could tell was that Harry wasn't objecting to anything, and in fact seemed rather eager to proceed.

Ron could feel his breathing quicken as he rubbed his palm against Harry's clothed cock. There were _way _too many obstacles in the way. Even if they were Canons' robes, nothing came close in comparison to the appeal of Harry's bare skin.

With his own breath picking up, Ron turned him around and slipped his tongue quickly into a mouth already waiting open. He could feel the steam from the running water in the bath, all thoughts of a shower already forgotten. It was hot in the small bathroom. But it wasn't entirely the water's fault…

With Harry standing there, no trousers or pants to speak of, he didn't know if a simple blow job would cut it. Simply the thought of Harry's exposed lower half made him growl with need. It had been too long since his cock had felt that pleasurable heat…

Don't get him wrong. He certainly liked being on the bottom, but with Harry's delectable arse in front of him all day…how was he supposed to resist it? And in Canons' robes, nonetheless?

He could hear Harry's shallow breaths, the way he would gasp when there was a bite of impatience in their heated snogging. Ron's eyes caught sight of the mirror behind them, of how wild and untamed Harry's hair was at the moment. Even the back of his head was fucking hot, since it brought back so many memories of taking Harry from behind.

Ron groaned and hoisted him up on the counter eagerly, not bothering to control himself anymore. Harry made a somewhat surprised, somewhat desperate noise at this, and Ron could feel his own excitement pounding away inside him. Everything about Harry made him excited, really. The way Harry's tongue twined so gently with his own, yet he would nibble on Ron's lip shortly after. The way Harry would act so shy and even blush at physical contact, yet would moan at the feel of Ron's hand between his legs. Everything he did, every small noise he made or soft thrust he would give drove Ron to near insanity, and there was no way he could resist.

Screw the bet.

He ran his hand along Harry's leg, catching the fabric of the robes as he did. Harry gripped tighter at his identical uniform, seeming to egg him on, to encourage his hand further upward. Both of them knew where they wanted it to go. The only problem was the numerous other people in the house, and were they brave enough to chance it?

Eh, they were Gryffindors.

Ron snaked his hand beneath Harry's robes, taking the final plunge and grasping his very bare, very erect cock. Harry grunted and fisted his red hair, the sight of which in the mirror excited Ron immensely. Harry was a work of art when he was aroused, be it from any angle.

He pulled roughly up Harry's erection, eliciting a slight groan for his efforts.

"Uhn, Ron," Harry breathed, tugging his hair slightly. "What if – "

"They think you're in the shower," Ron whispered, feeling Harry squirm as he stroked at a leisurely pace. "Plus, it's too late now anyways," he chuckled.

Harry gave a breathless laugh, fingers still tangled in his hair. Ron would love to have them there for eternity, if it were possible. If it meant he could be this randy forever.

He nipped at Harry's neck again, reveling in the moan that followed. It was almost perfect, the setting they were in. With the running water and the possibility of someone showering in here, Ron didn't have to worry about them being overheard or intruded upon. Why hadn't he thought of coming in here sooner? Plus, all of this seemed to add a bit of thrill to what they were already doing. It felt somehow more 'forbidden', given that it was in broad daylight with his family downstairs. He didn't think that sex with Harry could gain any more appeal, yet it always surprised him in more than pleasant ways…

"Mph," Harry buried his face in the crook of Ron's neck, seemingly unable to keep upright. He didn't usually get so excited over a simple wank. It appeared that someone else was feeling a bit of the naughtiness laced in their daring activities as well.

"Want me to fuck you over the counter?" Ron asked, squeezing firmly around Harry to punctuate his sentence.

Harry shuddered.

"I – God, how can you just – …" he started, his voice muffled in Ron's robes.

"But you want me to, right?" Ron said slyly. There was no mistaking the way Harry was pushing his hips forward in earnest. He clearly wanted more, and Ron would bloody well give it to him if he asked.

Harry remained silent, but his grip tightened noticeably. One hand was fisted in his hair while the other clutched desperately at his robes.

"Don't you?" Ron said, a bit worried now. Perhaps Harry wasn't as venturous as he thought. But what was he to expect from the boy who took any adventure he could get? He only led them on a wild goose hunt last year, straight into the bloody Ministry…

"Yes…"

Ron relaxed and stroked firmly again, pulling a breathy sigh from the other boy. Though, he sounded hesitant.

"You sure?" he said teasingly. Harry shifted again and nodded reluctantly. "You should probably say it, just so we're clear."

"Ron," Harry whined, almost childishly. "You know I hate it when you make me say that stuff."

"Yeah, but I like it," Ron whispered, carding his fingers through Harry's wild hair. He moved over to Harry's ear and muttered, "Just say you want it, Harry," Harry tried to shift away, but Ron gripped the back of his neck and kept him in place. "Just say 'I want your big, hot cock in me, Ron', and I'll give it to you…"

He squeezed roughly again, making Harry gasp.

"Mph," Harry buried his face in Ron's shoulder again, sounding frustrated. His voice was muffled as he replied, but it was unintelligible.

"What?"

"Want…hot cock…in me…"

"You sure?"

Harry sighed, and Ron could tell he was rolling his eyes. "Yes…"

"Mmm, that's the talk I like to hear," Ron laughed, nipping at the shell of his ear. "Real sexy…"

Harry snorted, his nose scrunching up briefly. Ron had to deliberately force his gaze not to linger on the action.

But then unshielded green eyes rose up to meet his blue ones, wide with an innocence that was incredibly _un_-innocent at the same time. It was the same look he had given in the field after he had lost the match. Lusty, in anticipation of something that wasn't considered acceptable to do in the public eye. Harry was able to use his wiles, just in a different way than Ron did. With those almond-shaped eyes instead…

Well, it worked.

Ron exhaled and managed to lunge forward again, stroking more firmly along the cock in his hand. The other boy moaned, no doubt at his renewed action, and shifted closer to his touch. Harry was more than eager to proceed, for Ron could feel his excitement quite clearly…

"It _is _okay, right?" he breathed, quickly but as a serious question as well. "We can later if you don't want – "

"No, I want to," Harry whispered with as much desperation. Hands tugged harder against his robes, on the strands of his hair, portraying how much he wanted to proceed. "It's fine, I want to…"

"Okay," Ron mumbled, feeling eager kisses along his jawline.

Harry's lips always seemed to be soft and warm. They were never cold, or chapped, or dry. The guy had a hydration that was unnatural, apparently, or it could have been the fact that Harry nibbled on them constantly. Perhaps it was some sort of nervous habit. Either way, they always made for the softest kiss, and the best snogging when it came down to it. Plus, his lips felt nice in other places and on other things, but Ron didn't think he could wait for that now.

But it seemed Harry had other ideas. Ron felt a hand fumbling beneath his robes, undoing the buttons on the front of his trousers. Harry's tongue seemed to be able to work expertly even when his hands were otherwise preoccupied. He sucked at all the right times, nibbled gently at others, and all the while Ron felt the pressure ease on his straining cock.

His trousers were undone quickly and he stepped out of them with all eagerness. They lay abandoned on the floor, no longer of use at the present time. When Harry slipped off the counter and knelt on the floor, Ron tried to contain the groan that fell past his lips, but it was no use. Harry was pushing up the fabric of his robes, making Ron hold them up.

Admittedly, the sight of his own cock standing just inches from the moist lips of the other boy was always a sight that made a thrill go up his spine. The initial realization of what was happening, that Harry would soon be sucking on him eagerly, always brought with it an aspect of disbelief. Perhaps disbelief that he could be so lucky, or disbelief that Harry saw him that way. But the flushed cheeks and hungry gaze of Harry right before him said otherwise. This was happening, and it happened fairly often. Harry wanted to do it. Harry wanted _him_.

Ron moaned when he felt that wet heat consume him, engulfing his cock fully. One hand instinctively came up to the back of Harry's head, tangling in the dark strands to try and ground himself. His other hand was forced to hold up the front of his robes. For some reason, they seemed increasingly heavy. So did his legs. And the very air around him.

"Oh, fuck," Ron gasped, feeling that sinful tongue work its way up his erection. Harry's hand gripped tightly at his side, holding onto his hip to keep him still. It was lucky, too, for Ron didn't think he could refrain from thrusting forward into that willing mouth.

His half-lidded gaze fell on the mirror opposite them. A tangle of jet-black hair could be seen, bobbing slowly and just managing to shield his pelvis. The sight made him groan and toss his head to the side. He couldn't stare at it for too long. The mere vision of it would make him come embarrassingly fast. But it was definitely going to stick in his mind for a while, now. The image was too arousing.

"Fuck, Harry," he said desperately, looking down to see the actual thing instead of a reflection. Perhaps it was a mistake, for the sight of Harry with a cock in his mouth was even more erotic than it was in a mirror. Ron could hear his own heavy breaths, so loud when he was drowning in so much pleasure. The small slurps that Harry gave when he would suck particularly hard were the most unbearable, he thought. That, or the way his green eyes shone with mischief when they were so far down his body.

Ron felt his stomach tense beneath his own fingers, which were loosely preventing the front of his robes from falling down again. It was different when he didn't have just a shirt to keep track of, there was much more fabric to keep in check. However, he was adequately distracted by the fact that Harry was running his hands around to the small of his back, smoothing along his skin for some reason. He wasn't entirely sure why, but it felt naughty, whatever the reason. Harry swallowed around him and he bucked involuntarily.

"Mph," he said, gripping Ron's sides slightly. Once he was secured in a firm hold, Harry dipped down, taking him almost fully again.

Ron groaned, letting his head thump back against the wall. It was all too good. He couldn't believe he had almost forfeited this. What was he, insane? Harry's technique had certainly improved from the nervous boy who was giving head for the first time in their dorm. But even then, it had been euphoric. Perhaps it wasn't the action at all. Perhaps it was just because it was Harry.

Well, the physical sensations probably had _something_ to do with it, at least.

A tight heat constricting around the head of his cock, gentle sucking to accompany the feeling…everything elicited at least some sort of undignified noise from him, until Harry had him begging for release.

He stood up again, and Ron saw the flushed face and heavy breathing of the raven-haired boy before him. His dark locks were wild and slightly damp, though whether from the steam or his excitement, Ron didn't know. It didn't really matter, because the sight made him insanely randy. Well, _more_ so, anyways.

Harry had those huge eyes on him again, glistening with their emerald-like qualities. He was breathless, and had a look that imitated that of a starving man.

"I want your – your big, hot cock in me…" he said in a level voice, though his cheeks grew yet another shade darker.

Then he grunted with the force of Ron shoving him backward, ravaging his mouth at the same time. Hearing Harry actually make an effort to speak like that was so…cute.

And hot.

But during the slightly brutal snog, while he entertained various possibilities for the next few minutes, Ron mentally kicked himself for not bringing the lube earlier. How was he supposed to do any of this if they didn't have it? Despite how painfully hard he was, which was wont to happen whenever Harry was in the room anyways, he obviously didn't want to cause him any pain. Well, he could put it off for another minute and find a different means to stretch Harry out, at least. The recent hot, wet torture from his mouth was one indication as to how that could be…

Ron pulled away to free up Harry's mouth and brought up his hand instead.

"W-what – "

"You have to suck some more if you want me to fuck you properly," Ron muttered against his neck, loving the way Harry shuddered slightly. He pushed his fingers past Harry's plump lips, nipping along that tender skin on his collar to keep his own mouth busy as well.

Harry groaned breathlessly, sucking eagerly on the two digits. Ron felt so worked up that he severely wished he didn't have to break up the moment to move them back upstairs where that special little bottle was. Well, no doubt he would still be desperately aroused of course, but it all seemed particularly wild now that they were venturing their rendezvous outside the bedroom for once…

He pulled his hand from Harry's mouth, and heard a foreboding groan. Ron smirked, knowing that _Harry_ knew what was happening next.

Ron lifted him slightly again, making Harry spread his legs with the use of the counter for leverage. His breathing was heavy and his hands clutched in Ron's hair and robes. Ron continued to nip at his neck as he moved his slick fingers beneath the rumpled fabric of Harry's uniform.

"Mmmh," Harry whimpered, no doubt feeling that familiar stretch. Ron pushed both of them inside, gentle despite his eagerness. As he said, he never wished to hurt Harry.

Luckily his fingers were slick enough with saliva and able to slip in with relative ease, but he knew it would always probably be a bit strange at first. For Harry _or_ himself, really. The initial intrusion was a bit of a surprise no matter how much warning in advance.

Harry sounded breathless, though, and the small tugs on the roots of his hair encouraged Ron to move forward. Told him to keep going, that Harry was just as eager for this as Ron was himself.

So he pumped them into that tight, constricting space, making Harry moan breathily against his ear. He nipped again at that smooth flesh, knowing Harry's reactions almost as well as his own by now. When his blue eyes gazed briefly over the other boy's shoulder, Ron caught a glimpse of a small cluster of various nondescript toiletries resting on the counter.

One of which was a very generic brand of skin lotion.

He immediately brightened. Ron had used this sad, innocent bottle of lotion to wank countless times, stealing it away in his room for those boring summer nights when he had nothing else to bloody do. He always returned it here to ease everyone's suspicions, but he knew what it was really for…

That bottle had aided in so many of his orgasms, and now it was going to aid in the best one of its tiny little shelf-life.

"You want me to fuck you here, Harry?" Ron said, nibbling his way over to an ear. He could feel the heat radiating from the other boy as he fingered a bit deeper, adding to the effect of his words. "Over this counter, in my house? Up here when everyone else doesn't know what we're doing?"

"Mph, yeah," Harry said breathlessly, not even bothering to put on his little innocent mask.

Ron smirked. Harry may get embarrassed whenever he said filthy things, but both of them knew he secretly liked the naughty words. Why would he get so randy from them otherwise?

"Turn around," he said lowly, pulling away just enough to grip Harry's arm and do it for him. On his opposite hand, his fingers slipped out of Harry easily. Ron couldn't help the slight growl to his voice, or the way he enjoyed Harry's moan of anticipation.

He pulled Harry's robes off, up and over his head. The action tousled his hair even more, but Ron liked it that way. He wasted no time in discarding his own robes too, making sure that they were out of the bloody way. He loved the gift from his father, but…

Sex was happening.

Knowing that Harry had some underlying kinks that he didn't really admit to, Ron pushed him down roughly to bend him over the counter. The sight of that firm arse presented to him was almost mouth-watering. He felt like the hungry predator again, eyeing a meal before attacking. His gaze roamed up the exposed body of his prey, up the thin waist, the lean back, the strong shoulders and biceps that flexed as he moved. Harry groaned, shifting slightly as Ron held him firmly in place. He pushed between the other boy's shoulder blades, taking slight pleasure in how eager and desperate he sounded.

"Ron…"

Ron reached over and took the small bottle. He was familiar with the mechanisms of it. He had opened it several times before, usually in a hurry like he was now.

The action wasn't lost on Harry, either, because he moaned again as his green eyes focused on the bottle. Ron squeezed a decent amount into his palm before placing it back on the surface of the counter.

"Is that what…ohhh," Harry's face was hidden as he turned round again, his sigh muffled by his own forearm. Ron had slipped his fingers back down to Harry's arse, spreading a bit of their makeshift lubricant there.

His hand may have lingered, teasing the dark-haired boy, but who knew for sure?

Ron smirked and pulled away again, spreading the rest of the slick substance on his own cock. He had to force himself to keep it brief. The cool sensation on his overheated skin, his hand gliding over his erection that had already been mercilessly tortured by Harry's mouth… Perhaps it could exact some revenge for the teasing, if he ever stopped wanking himself.

He reluctantly pulled his hand away and placed it on Harry's hip. It slid slightly along his skin from the lotion, so he had to grip a bit tighter. His other hand remained between Harry's shoulders, pinning him to the counter, and he tried not to enjoy seeing the vulnerable position _too_ much. But any fuckable view of Harry was going to be enjoyed whether he wanted too or not, and the sight of a desperately aroused Harry was the best. He leaned down, nipping at the back of his neck, sliding his hand up into wild strands of hair.

"Ready for me to fuck that tight little arse of yours?" he muttered in between nips of teeth. Ron pushed his hips flush with Harry's arse, showing just how eager he was. He didn't have any doubt that Harry knew already, but it didn't stop a low whimper escaping the other boy.

"Ngh, yes," Harry gasped, turning his head to the side. His eyes were closed, and his head rested on one of his arms while the counter took most of his weight. Not that Ron gave it much choice otherwise, because the sight of Harry bent flush over for him was too good to let change.

Not needing any more prompting than that, Ron centered his cock before pushing his hips forward. He could feel Harry's intake of breath against his chest, hear the slight grunt as he entered the other boy for the first time that day. But as that familiar constricting feeling engulfed him, Ron wasn't sure if it would be the last time for the evening…

"Fuck," he breathed, dropping his forehead against Harry's body. Ron moved slowly, always taking care to not cause Harry too much discomfort, but that didn't mean it wasn't bloody difficult.

He took steady breaths to pace himself, pausing when he was fully seated in the other boy. Harry was relatively silent, and Ron took that to mean he was getting used to the stretch per the usual. He tried to ease into it, using only very light, mild thrusts to start off, but it felt so bloody fantastic…

"Fuck, you look so hot like this," Ron whispered, seizing Harry's hip again to steady his movements. His other hand ruffled that dark hair, feeling how it stuck up every which-way. "All laid out for me…I reckon we should fuck here more often…" he couldn't help but smirk at the small moan that answered him.

He continued a steady rhythm, unable to stop his own breathing from turning ragged. He held back for now, knowing it took a moment to get used to being filled. He recalled how it felt to have Harry in him, which really only succeeded in making him more excited. But he knew how it felt, how it was at first.

The soft gasps and stifled whimpers grew in intensity as Harry became more vocal. Ron's light thrusts were soon accompanied with louder expressions, sometimes even muttered words, some of them unintelligible. Harry's hands tried to find purchase somewhere on the counter, but there wasn't really any place for him to hold onto. Ron would be lying if he said every little thing didn't egg him on, encourage him to somehow do better. He tried to aim at Harry's sweet spot, the spot that he now knew to drive his _own _body insane. The small shocks, or tingles, or whatever it was that happened when his prostate was touched couldn't fully be described by any words other than 'holy fuck'. But as Harry moaned more insistently, Ron knew that he was certainly enjoying it in some way, and that was all the motivation he needed.

He planted his bare feet more firmly on the tiled floor, and straightened up slightly to enjoy the better view. Harry was splayed out on the surface before him, muscles tense as he expressed his pleasure through heavy breaths and groans. Ron was better able to hold onto him from here, to push more firmly into that beautifully shaped arse. He could feel the tight heat around his cock. The unbearable sensation that was yet again torturing him. It squeezed around him and engulfed him completely, igniting a fire within that overheated his entire body. The glorious feeling of being inside Harry again, feeling so much pleasure at once, made it increasingly hard to remain standing. But to pull away meant certain death, so that was completely out of the question.

He pounded roughly into the squirming body beneath him, hearing the soft cries that always drove him mad. Harry was able to make the most delicious sounds, and Ron would never get tired of them…

"Mmm," Harry hummed, burying his face in the crook of his elbow. "Uh! Ron, there…"

"Fuck," Ron muttered, not even registering what he was really saying. The breathy moans that Harry gave were filling his thoughts, echoing in his mind. They were too erotic, and he was too worked up to care about being coherent.

He continued thrusting, drowning in his own pleasure, hearing the way Harry took his as well. The steam from the shower was fogging up the mirror, but not enough to hide their reflections yet. Ron groaned as he saw the image before him. Harry's form beneath him, bare of any clothing and taking his cock like a bloody professional…

Ron reached forward, removing one of his hands from Harry's hips to tug at his hair.

"Look," he commanded, though a bit breathlessly. Harry looked up, green eyes meeting identical ones in their own reflection.

The slightly wild moan that followed sent a thrill up Ron's spine. Apparently Harry liked what he saw…

He leaned down, unable to hide the slight smirk as he thrust more firmly into the other boy. Ron spoke lowly against the side of his neck, against that skin that he so loved to taste.

"D'you like watching me fuck you?" he said teasingly, feeling the obvious shudder than ran through Harry's body. "D'you like watching the things I get to do to you?"

"Mph," Harry whimpered, sounding almost desperate as his forehead dropped to his arm again.

He seemed as though he didn't want to look, but Ron knew it was that forever-present embarrassment that he harbored. Harry was afraid to like things that were naughty, or at least afraid to _show _that he liked them. But Ron didn't think there was much reason to hide it, especially from him. The fact that they shagged and were dating and everything was some reason to open up a bit about personal things, he thought. If that wasn't reason enough, he didn't know what was.

But Harry was probably afraid to be open about such things, or maybe he didn't even know how. Harry's list of confidants was extremely small to begin with, and was decreasing with every year. At least Ron knew that he could be one of those people, hopefully on an even more personal level, what with the sexual aspect and everything… The way he got so excited at being held down, the peppermint sticks, the 'come hither' looks he threw Ron's way. Ron honestly _liked_ the kinky way Harry was, because it contrasted so much with the innocence he so usually portrayed. It made him bloody attractive, or even more so now…

"No, wait, look," Ron said, tugging the wild hair to raise his head again.

Harry reluctantly made eye-contact with him through the mirror's reflection. His cheeks were adorably flushed from his arousal, despite how hard he was trying to hide it.

"You like it, don't you?" Ron muttered against his skin, unable to help the grin that accompanied his words. "You like watching us…" His own gaze returned briefly to the mirror, seeing Harry's wide green eyes reflected there. "I like it too…"

Harry gasped again as Ron reached down to take him in hand, stroking firmly on his neglected cock. He could feel how hard it was, leaking from his excitement. He continued to thrust against that spot, hearing Harry's moans increase again. They were breathless and loud, hopefully still covered by the running water, though Ron couldn't find himself to care much if they weren't. The only thing that mattered was that Harry was enjoying himself, and he figured that was the case.

"Oh," Harry whined, reaching back suddenly and seizing Ron's hair. Harry's head was thrown back slightly, eyes shut tight and panting heavily. "Oh, fuck. I'm gonna come…" he said breathlessly.

"Gonna come for me?" Ron managed, squeezing harder around Harry's cock. He could feel it twitching in confirmation, as well as the constricting around his own erection nearly doubling as Harry's body tensed.

He cried out, his back arching slightly. Ron felt the flow of semen over his fingers, heard the moans of pleasure from those soft, plump lips. The steady rhythm of his hips continued to draw Harry's orgasm out, but it was difficult to concentrate when his arse was so tight. Not to mention the incredible sounds Harry made when he came, which Ron would never be able to forget for as long as he lived…

But they faded for now, and Harry's body relaxed. He was breathing heavily and looked as though he were fighting to stay standing. Well, half-standing, since he was still being fucked over a counter…

Ron freed his grip on Harry, leaning forward to brace his arms on the sturdy surface instead. He could hear his own ragged breaths, his own excitement building at having watched such an erotic display. Harry never disappointed when it came to a good show, but he could probably be eating bread and Ron would be able to come from watching it. But he wasn't eating bread, he was pushing himself up, using the counter for support.

Harry turned slightly, pulling him by the back of his neck so that their lips met again in a lazy snog. Ron felt that sinful tongue work into his mouth, warm from his excitement, from how hard he had come. Their kiss broke when Ron groaned this time, feeling the tightness in his midsection. His skin burned beneath the surface, the fire still lit behind his groin.

At the feel of Harry's wandering tongue and the gentle sucking along his jaw, Ron finally came. He moaned into Harry's shoulder, his hips losing all rhythm as his body rejoiced in the overwhelming pleasure. His orgasm pulled from him, emptying into that tight heat that so willingly took it all. It was long, and well anticipated, and about bloody time.

When the sweet fire seemed to finally end, Ron felt extremely unsteady. His arms seemed to be made from marshmallows, or licorice, or something entirely useless for holding a person up so that they didn't crush the boy beneath them. He leaned down on his elbows for a moment, resting his forehead on the back of Harry's neck.

And stayed there for a moment.

"You alright?" Harry said, laughing slightly.

"Yeah," Ron answered, chuckling as well. He sighed, eyes closed, enjoying the faint radiating numbness that always followed a good shag. Somehow, wanking just didn't leave him as exhausted, or as pleased. After catching his breath, he paused, managed to raise himself on his arms again, and pulled out as gently as he could.

Harry groaned and pushed himself up from the counter, looking as unsteady as Ron felt.

When they stood facing each other, both of them a bit wobbly and unbalanced, Ron couldn't help but notice that it was considerably less sexy than it had been a minute ago. Both of them were still a bit breathless, and flushed in the face, standing bare-arsed across from each other in a bathroom. He slumped back against the tiled wall, running a hand through his hair with a contented sigh. Though, even after he was spent and extremely tired, Ron couldn't help but admire the view of Harry's torso, rather openly. Harry's cheeks were already pink from their activities, but Ron could tell he would be blushing if they weren't. Harry looked away, smirking despite his shy reaction.

"You don't have an 'off' switch, do you?"

"Apparently not," Ron laughed, shrugging.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note Again: <strong>So, one thing I forgot to mention. I was coasting around the internet, and stumbled upon an interesting little site that's gained just a tiny bit of fame the past few years or so. I was wondering if you guys wanted me to make a Tumblr? It seems more artsy than Facebook or places like that, while allowing me a certain amount of anonymity. That way, you could ask me questions, and I would post my fics there too, since I've seen writing on the site as well. I could try to learn how to use it, and we could all learn and blunder through together. Plus, it would be a bit more personal than the messaging system here. I dunno, leave your thoughts in a review, or message me if you think it's a good idea. If enough people seem interested, I'll totally do it, yo.


	28. Words

**Author's Note: **Yeah, still a Jerkface. Epic Author's note at the end for important deets.

* * *

><p>The days continued much in the same manner. While they tried to keep the snogging, groping, and wild shagging to a minimum, it was…difficult. It certainly kept their minds off of the return to Hogwarts, that was for sure, as well as the continuous articles that ran in each <em>Prophet.<em> They were getting farther and farther from the truth each day, adding 'facts' about their relationship that were completely ludicrous. Most of those interviewed were either speculators that knew nothing about anything, or eager Slytherins on holiday, taking time out of their luxurious schedules to provide colorful interviews.

Harry made a point to read them, though. He had to, in a way, so that he knew what scrutiny was coming his direction when they got to the castle. He had pretty much expected the worst from the Slytherins. But as he stared one morning, slack-jawed and gaping at the offending parchment, he knew the serpent house had reached an all-time low.

'_Yeah, a few kids have been approached by him so far, I hear,' says Albert Crossley, a seventh-year attending the same school. 'I hear he offers to suck cock for a few sickles, but we don't really tell the professors or anything. Hard to mention, that.'_

Ron had seen his expression, peered over his shoulder to read it, and almost visibly emitted flames in his squawk of rage. Everyone at the table asked what was wrong, but he merely seized Harry's wrist and dragged him up to the top of the house, throwing him down onto the bed in Ron's room.

"Show them who sucks bloody cock," he growled, furiously undoing Harry's belt.

Like he said, it took their mind off things.

"I'd pay more than a few Sickles for that," Harry panted, rubbing playfully at Ron's hair afterwards.

And luckily, no more ghastly letters had made any further appearance due to the merciful protective charms set upon the house. Also no Death Eaters broke down the door and burned the Burrow to the ground or anything, because as Dumbledore said, letting him stay here while that was at all possible was completely foolish and didn't make any sense. Good thing that was never a thing that could happen.

Ron was safe. He was safe. Everything was fine in their perfect little bubble of comfort.

Harry enjoyed his last few days as much as possible, knowing that it would all change once they went back to school. He tried not to dwell on the impending doom, but it was difficult not to anticipate. He could tell that Ron was trying to distract him, or perhaps both of them, by constantly participating in various activities. They engaged in Quidditch with the others (giving a slightly amorous victory snog when their team won), played loads of chess in which Ron almost let Harry win once but said he just couldn't do, partook in merriment, and also, the aforementioned sex.

Harry knew that they were eager young sods exploring the vigorous world of arousal. Well, it wasn't as though he hadn't done that on his own for years anyways. But he also knew that it was almost a rush to get as much in as they could before the holiday ended. They both seemed bloody well fine with it, having to muffle their cries at night for fear of expressing too much pleasure to the rest of the house, and both were perfectly happy with the amount of defiling that went on in that room every night. Harry was almost constantly sore, but he didn't even care. If they weren't going to be able to get away at Hogwarts, or if there was a significant risk of getting caught in compromising positions, then it could be a while before they could…enjoy each other quite the same. Though, now that Harry had it, he didn't know if he would be able to go without Ron's deep muttering into his ear as he pushed into him slowly, or the ragged breaths against his skin as they moved together in the darkness. Yes, they had been physical before they left for holiday, but now it was different.

More…intimate.

Harry tried to ignore the way that word sounded rolling around in his thoughts. As he watched Ron laugh at one of Fred's jokes, his sapphire eyes glinting in the lamplight, it was rather confusing as to why the word sounded so much softer. He was talking about sex. Ron's cock, and arse. Why did he feel so close when all they were doing was exchanging bodily fluids?

But of course, that wasn't what they were simply doing, and Harry knew it. He liked Ron of course, when he had been hopelessly doting from a distance. When they had been snogging in broom cupboards and holding hands in secret, he had liked him even more. And when Ron was so gentle in the night, when one of them would sneak into the other's bed in the dorm, that was when Harry had noticed little things about Ron. His freckles. His bright blue eyes. The catch of his hair in the light. How insanely cute he was just constantly. But then, when Ron had been so careful for their first time, so caring and excited and adorably nervous, Harry felt something else grow in his chest again. A fluttering, while also a bit of an ache. But it was the same feeling that increased each step they moved closer to each other. He had never really felt such a feeling before, except for when he was surrounded by friends. Even then, that seemed almost dull compared to this. Harry took it to mean that he was truly happy, to have someone care at such a level about himself. Perhaps he had never felt it before because he had never been so happy.

He couldn't remember such a time, anyways.

And so it covered up the dread, the feeling of resentment towards the media and guilt at having dragged Ron into this. The fluttering kept it mostly at bay, and he was selfishly relieved to have someone with him this time through a public uproar. With Ron, he almost felt like it didn't matter in the slightest.

That is, until they were standing before the barrier between platforms nine and ten. King's Cross was the same as usual, though somehow less welcoming.

"Ready?" Ron said, lugging his trunk next to himself. He looked like he was trying not to panic.

Harry nodded, straightening Hedwig's cage atop his own trunk.

They walked over, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley already having gone through, and leaned casually against the barrier. It melted away and left them staggering to try and step onto the new platform.

It was bloody chaos. Harry hadn't expected there to be reporters and photographers at the station, foolishly.

He felt a hand grab his shoulder and steer him forward. Mr. Weasley was the owner of it, muttering "let's go, son" under all of the shouted questions their way. Harry blinked, following him blindly. This was madness.

"Potter, what do you say to the allegations of your sexual escapa – "

"You had better not finish that sentence!" shrieked Mrs. Weasley, who was dragging Ron along by the collar next to them. "GET THE BLOODY HELL OUT OF THE WAY!"

Harry was surprised yet again. He didn't think he had ever heard that volume in spoken language before, including Bagman's commentating at various events. Ron winced as she shouted, looking up at her with wide eyes. Harry suspected that perhaps it was a reflex for whenever she lost her temper at all. Nonetheless, the offending cameras cleared slightly, not wanting to be on the other end of her wand.

They shoved their way through to the train and gathered at one of the entrances. It seemed rather lucky that all of the Weasleys were there to see them off. The entire family sort of formed a temporary blockade against the press in order for them to exchange goodbyes.

"Well, it was wonderful to have you stay, dear!" Mrs. Weasley said as kindly as she could manage while at such a loud volume. Harry could still hear questions being shouted at him from behind her. He frowned.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, allowing her to pull him into a hug.

"Don't you think on it, darling," she said firmly. She squeezed him tightly as a sign of reassurance. "It's always a pleasure to have you over. Especially now, considering…things," she added, smirking. "Do take care of him, dear. He's awfully smitten with you."

Harry felt his face erupt into color, but nodded. When Mrs. Weasley released him, Mr. Weasley stepped over to squeeze his shoulder. He smiled down in a fatherly way and said "Don't let it get to you, son."

Harry nodded again, felt the firm hand disappear, and turned to the train doors to board. Ron was close behind, and they clambered up the steps to get out of this hell hole. Photographers called out desperately, but were promptly ignored.

"Merlin," Ron sighed as soon as the door clicked shut.

"You'd think we were him, alright," Harry said exasperatedly. "Back from the bloody dead or something with how big of news this is."

Ron chuckled and moved on, dragging his trunk. Harry followed suit, somehow already feeling overwhelmed. He wondered how long it would take for people to swarm their compartment once word got around that they were on the train.

As Ron ducked into an empty one, Harry almost walked past him, lost in his own horror.

"Oi," Harry felt a hand seize his wrist and was pulled back slightly. Ron laughed again. "Over here."

"Sorry, I wasn't – "

"Oh my god, they're even holding hands!"

The shrill voice made both of them whip around in alarm. A flock of awe-struck girls stood at the end of the cramped hall, staring intently at the hand-to-wrist contact between them. Ron scoffed angrily, moving inside the compartment. Harry was dragged successfully along.

"Stupid idiots," Ron grumbled. Harry heard the compartment door close rather harshly, but didn't make much mention on it. He only stuffed his trunk and Hedwig's cage up above and sat down next to the window.

Which was a mistake.

He only had to look over to see several cameras flashing blue and green puffs of smoke. The reporters were trying desperately to take pictures through the window. Harry glared for a moment, then turned to Ron.

"I want to go back."

Ron sighed. "Me too. But we can't."

"I know," Harry sunk down moodily in his seat. Ron sat across from him and looked over warily.

"What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking that it's bloody ridiculous, for one," Harry burst out suddenly, flailing his arms. "I mean, they've _never _followed us to the platform before. Or stood here waiting for us or…or whatever happened that got them all here. I mean, even after Cedric, they had enough decency to just leave it be…eurgh."

Ron frowned at that.

"Yeah, I guess they did. Apparently this is more important than the death of a student," he said bitterly. "I wonder if they'll be at the school too."

Harry laughed shortly. "I doubt Dumbledore would allow that."

"Maybe they'll let Grawp out to answer any questions."

They both laughed a bit nastily at that. Harry couldn't help but imagine the situation with a bit of enjoyment at the reporters' expense.

Harry sighed. He stared down at the seat, not wanting to see the stupid flashes beside him, and instead chose to pick at random threads in the cushion that had clearly been picked at by generations of students before him. He wondered bitterly if they ever had to worry about the entire world knowing their sexual orientation.

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ron watching him warily. The silence hung there for a bit, with only the dull clicks of the cameras outside to fill it. Then Ron growled slightly, sounding frustrated.

"I knew this would happen," he said lowly.

"What?"

"Well it's only been a few minutes and I already want to kiss you."

Harry chuckled, looking briefly out the window. The reporters scrambled to get his picture when he looked, but his eyes were already back on Ron. The mischief was too enticing.

"Do it," he shrugged, grinning.

"What?" it was Ron's turn to ask.

"Kiss me anyway. Not like they haven't seen it already. At great length, mind."

Ron chuckled again.

"You sure?"

Harry nodded.

"If you say so," he said, shrugging and leaning forward. "Not gonna argue there."

Harry felt Ron's warmth right before he felt his lips. A none-too-modest kiss was placed on his mouth, with just the hint of a tongue that probably wouldn't have been visible on camera anyways. It lingered for a moment, and then Ron sat back down.

They both stared at the window and burst into laughter. The photographers were going mad with excitement, clicking away furiously with their cameras despite the kiss being long over. Harry shook his head and leaned back against his seat.

"At least they're entertaining," he smirked.

Sometime after that, Hermione had managed to locate them through throngs of people in the narrow hallway outside. She struggled in dragging her trunk and huffed exasperatedly when she sat down.

"Goodness," she said simply.

Harry and Ron nodded grimly.

"I can see the _Prophet_ isn't missing any opportunities," she added, unbuttoning her cloak. "Had a lovely time trying to beat my way past the press. Even I was ambushed for being 'the third party concerned', whatever that's supposed to mean. Rather barbaric, isn't it? Anyways, how was your holiday?"

She spoke all at once, not allowing for much interruption. At least she spoke casually and not as though everything had gone arse-over-tit, which it had. It was rather pleasant.

"Fine," Ron sighed heavily. "Well, considering. Told my parents beforehand at least, so they knew already in time for all this."

"Oh yes, how did that go?" she asked pleasantly. "Telling your parents?"

"Good," Harry interjected, smirking in Ron's direction. "He was overreacting about it ahead of time. Big surprise."

"Quite," Hermione giggled. "What did they say?"

"Well, my parents were sort of shocked, I think," Ron said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Though not as much as George was when he walked in on us snogging before that."

"Wow."

"Yeah…"

"Hard to believe you two got caught with how careful you were being," she said sarcastically, crossing her arms.

"Yeah, well…" Harry could see Ron's ears turning slightly pink.

She smirked, seeing his obvious discomfort. "You kids need to control your urges – "

"Yeah, we got it," Ron shot quickly.

"So everyone took it well then, aside from George and his initial…surprise?"

"Actually, even _he_ seemed okay with it after a few minutes," Harry said, propping his feet up on Ron's knee. "I mean, I knew they'd all take it fine, but there's always a chance that…well…"

He gestured flatly out the window, where reporters were shouting questions that couldn't even be heard through the glass. Not that he would answer them anyways.

"Yes…that."

"But everything was fine until all this bloody happened," Ron said moodily. "Except for…er…"

"What?" Hermione looked genuinely worried for the first time since Harry had seen her enter.

"Well, Gin sort of went a bit, er, mad. But I'm sure it'll even out," he muttered.

"Oh dear," Hermione sighed. "I did wonder how that would go."

"Has everyone known this but me?" Harry said deliriously.

One would think he had been blind to her all along. It made him wonder what else he was missing that was going on so blatantly around him. Was the sky really blue, or would he find out one day that perhaps orange was more suited for it and he had never bothered to look closely enough?

"Probably," Hermione said briefly. Harry made an indignant noise, but she cut over him. "I did think that perhaps she wouldn't be as accepting. What happened?"

"Nothing much. I've had words with her," Ron said curtly.

Hermione snorted. _"Words?"_

"Yeah, words," Ron shot. "Told her that's how it is and there's no point in getting her knickers in a twist over it."

"I do hope you put it more elegantly than that," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah. Sort of."

"Well anyway," Harry interrupted, feeling strange as he always did when talking about Ginny's unreturned feelings of…whatever they were. "How was_ your_ holiday, Hermione?"

"Oh, mine was great!" she leaned forward eagerly. Harry rarely saw her this excited over something that didn't contain at least three hundred pages.

"Did you go to the forest?" he asked. The only forest Harry had been to was the Forbidden one at Hogwarts. He hoped they weren't all so creepy and filled with ravenous magical creatures.

"No, we stayed home," she said, shaking her head. "But I did get the most wonderful Christmas present! Aside from both of yours," she added sheepishly.

"What was it?" Ron asked, snickering. "No, wait, let me guess. A book?"

"Actually no," she sneered. Then she sat up straight with the heir of giving an important speech. "It was a _car!"_

"Woah, really?" Harry said, raising his eyebrows.

Hermione had turned seventeen this year, technically, so she was legally able to drive. Harry realized that, even though he knew this, he had never asked if she'd gotten her driver's license. Driving was something Harry knew he would never be able to do while under the Dursleys' roof. No doubt the control they would have over him because of it was one reason, and another being that in no way would Uncle Vernon let Harry near his beloved automobile. This bluntly accepted fact that he wouldn't be getting his license for some time had caused him to not hold the milestone of 'driving for the first time' as highly as other people his age. He had trains and the buses, and simple walking to get him through Little Winging (not that he had many places to go anyways). Plus, since his discovery of the wizarding world, now it seemed even less important than before.

But of course, Hermione was willing to take on any exam with enthusiasm.

And now she was equipped with muggle transport.

"Yes," she said, unable to hide her excitement. "I was able to take it out on Boxing day, all of us went on a small drive through the country. It was so thoughtful of them, I couldn't believe it!"

"Why do you need your own, though?" Ron said, looking perplexed. "Don't your parents have one already?"

"Well, yes," Hermione blushed slightly. "Like I said, it was quite thoughtful of them! I didn't ask for it specifically."

"So you got your license already, then?" Harry asked, curious when she would have even had the time.

She nodded. "First day of holiday." Her sheepish grin told him that she most likely took her exam as soon as she was physically able. "They said they bought it before I had even got home, though! What if I had failed?"

Harry laughed. As if that were even a possibility.

"Wait, so you only _just_ learned?" Ron said incredulously.

"Not everyone hijacks a flying car when they're twelve, Ronald," she replied disapprovingly.

"Plus, I'm pretty sure roads are different than the open sky, mate," Harry added. "There are, you know, people and everything."

Ron slouched in his seat, narrowing his eyes. "There are plenty of birds in the air, thank you! And who's side are you on, anyways?"

"Sorry," Harry grinned, kicking Ron's knee lightly.

The playful banter among the three of them continued for some time, until the train lurched forward and began pulling away from the station. Usually Harry would be able to see the Weasley's waving kindly from the platform, but all he saw were flashes of smoke and gaggles of reporters. He fell silent, already regretting the return to school.

But apparently, he wasn't regretting it enough yet, because about half an hour into their light conversation the compartment door slid open. The very person Harry had been the most unhappy about seeing walked in, flanked by his usual goons. Platinum hair blazed beneath the lamps of the carriage.

"Hey Potter," Malfoy said, smirking in a way that was somehow impossibly more smug than usual.

"Oh Merlin," Ron groaned, sitting up a bit straighter. "Can't believe we're starting this so soon."

"Oh look," Malfoy spoke loudly to Crabbe, nudging him in the shoulder as if engaging in conversation. "It's Potter's little toy. How's it going, Weasley? Met any good poufs lately?"

"Shut up," he snarled.

"Though, I suppose we all know the answer to that," Draco smirked. "Been all over the news, Potter. Can't look anywhere without seeing you snogging some bloke."

Ron stood, and Harry glared venomously.

"Just leave it alone, Malfoy," Ron said lowly. "This won't end well, and you know it."

Harry stood too.

"Not like we haven't beaten your arse before, either," he added. "Couldn't handle a couple of 'poufs' then, and I doubt you want to find out if you can now."

Malfoy merely sneered in his direction.

"True. I don't fancy my young body being taken advantage of by a couple of benders," he drawled in mock concern. "Everyone's heard about what Potter's like. None of us are safe…"

"You're all bloody wankers," Ron growled. "You made that shit up just to get your little jabs in. Well, good on you. Now get the fuck out."

"Language, Weasley," Malfoy smirked. "Do you really kiss Potter with that mouth? I wonder how long before he gets tired of you and moves on to some other impressionable soul."

Harry laughed, and he saw Ron's mouth twitch too. At least it wasn't common knowledge of how active Ron had been in their initial getting together. Malfoy missed their nonverbal exchange and carried on, of course, no doubt loving the sound of his own slippery voice.

"Someday soon he'll be luring another boy into a field, Weasley. Then your ten minutes of fame will be over, and no girl will have you after that. Though, I can't imagine it now, either," he sneered.

"Just bugger off," Harry snapped. Ron's ears were getting pink again and he was falling dangerously quiet. Harry bravely took his arm and wrapped it firmly around Ron's waist, pulling him close. It was the first time he had ever done something so possessive in front of people, but he figured it proved his point effectively. His other hand, which wasn't gripping Ron's side, was balled into a fist ready to throw a punch.

"Sweet, Potter, but I don't buy it," Malfoy said. "No doubt in time the parents won't want their little boys around such a _dangerous_ predator," They turned to leave, Crabbe and Goyle guffawing stupidly behind him. "I for one won't be travelling the corridors alone…"

"Oh don't worry Malfoy. Believe me, you three are bloody _safe_,"Harry added, smirking right back.

The last thing he saw was Malfoy's searing glare as Hermione shut the door and drew the curtain.

They all burst out laughing, Ron falling to his seat and Hermione clapping a hand over her mouth.

"That was good," Ron said, grinning.

"That was terrible," Hermione chuckled.

No one else had come to bother them, shockingly, for the rest of the train ride. Part of this may have been because Hermione had sealed the door, but Harry liked to think that maybe no one had tried anyways. Perhaps Malfoy was the only one willing to taunt them about it.

They changed into their robes when the driver had announced they were nearly there. Usually each of them stood in a corner, staring at the wall while they removed their clothes until everybody was finished. But Harry had caught Ron sneaking a peak while his trousers were off, and threw a shoe at him while they laughed. Hermione asked what they were doing over there, and they both furtively returned to their tasks.

After about fifteen minutes, the train screeched to a halt in the station. They wobbled uncertainly on their feet with the jerking motion, laughing and clutching at the carriage to stabilize themselves. When it was still, and the announcer said it was safe to disembark from the train, they reached up and grabbed their luggage from the racks. Soon they would take the carriages to the school. Soon he would be in front of millions of his fellow students for the first time since his lovely front-page kiss with Ron.

His nerves got the better of him this time. He clutched his trunk to stop his hands from shaking. Malfoy was one thing, conquering him in verbal combat was easy enough. But what about his friends? What about those who he didn't know how they would react? What about the teachers, or the ghosts, even? He didn't know what to think, and it scared him.

"Oi, you alright?" Ron muttered, looking over at him. He was probably tipped off to something being awry since Harry had yet to even move towards the door.

"Yeah," he said dryly. Harry willed his foot to move, just one at least. Then he could concentrate on the other.

Hermione, slightly oblivious to his turmoil, was standing in the doorway waiting for the river of students to pass by. Ron gnawed on his lower lip, and Harry focused on that for a moment.

Then, he felt a hand come up and ruffle the hair at the back of his head. He swallowed, feeling that fluttering in his chest again. It was alright. He could do it. They could do it.

So he followed Hermione's bushy hair when she found an opening in the crowd and walked out of the doorway. Ron was close behind, and they made their way to the doors that led outside.

Along the way, whispers grew in intensity. The students around him noticed, knew who he was of course. They noticed that Ron was right next to him, like he always had been anyways. They noticed that things were vastly different now that everything was out in the open. Shoved brutally out of the closet like some burglar hiding from the police. They knew they snogged, knew who he was dating, knew that he liked boys and Ron especially in a more-than-friendly way. Everyone knew, and he couldn't do anything about it. He ignored the gossip as they walked down the drive, which was mercifully free of nosy reporters at least, towards the gathering of carriages that were pulled by skeletal winged beasts. The night was cold, the whispers around him colder, making him feel isolated from the crowd once again.

Only this time, a calloused hand slipped into his, twining with his fingers in the semi-darkness. Try as he might, Harry couldn't hide the small smile that crept onto his face.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: <strong>So yeah, I didn't work on this for a long time because I've been a lazy ass. And by that, I mean that I just finished reading Homestuck. If any of you have ever read or tried to read Homestuck, you know perfectly well what I'm talking about.

I'm really glad that you guys continue to review on this though, because every time I get one it makes me feel like more of a jerk for updating like a spaz in no discernible pattern. It motivates me to get my ass in motion. Thank you for all of your reviews, and I swear to god the 200-mark one-shot I promised is coming along, it's just insanely huge and, as I mentioned before, I'm still a Jerkface.

Oh, and that tumblr thing that I asked you guys if I should do is a thing now. The link is on my author's page, which you can get to by clicking on my name, because I'm not even gonna try to get through this site's anti-link vendetta by typing it right here. I only have one story posted so far on it though. I am so fucking organized, it's unbelievable. I'll try to get that updated too.

Before you all hate me, know that I do this for free, and I love each and every one of you with all the gay passion I physically hold within my body.


	29. The Worst

**Author's Note: **Oh god. I have no words other than...my bad.

So yeah, I'm in University now and things were hellish. Today is actually my birthday (it's 3AM so it counts). It's pretty much the first time I've been alone-ish (my roommate's asleep), without homework (I took eighteen credits this quarter), and in the mood to write things (that is sort of important). I never realized how busy I would be, even during the summer before quarter started, doing things that weren't writing gay pornographic stories for my readers. All I can say is that I'm sorry and I'm a horrible writer, and this chapter is unedited because I was excited to actually write something. I may update this later so that it's not so shitty and brief. But for now...have this as my meager offering to you poor people.

This story will not die, I swear to all that is holy.

_**Edit:** I changed a bit in the second half and edited other parts slightly, so the plot can go in the direction I want. I would recommend reading the latter portion again, but it's no huge deal if you miss the changes. Also, if you can refrain from throwing anonymous hissy-fits in my reviews and instead tell me what's wrong like a sane person, that would be cool I guess. I do actually look at what you guys say and take it into consideration. These chapters aren't set in stone when i post them, and if you think something doesn't work right or if there are mistakes, let me know._

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><p>The carriage was deathly silent. It seemed as if they were in some sort of funeral procession, for how lively everyone was inside. Hell, they were even black. Perhaps signaling the death of their dignity? Privacy? Happiness?<p>

No, Ron knew that wasn't true, even as he thought it. Even as he snarled at the people who tried to enter their carriage, fending them off so as to not be trapped with a bunch of nosy tossers, he knew he still felt happy. It was sort of impossible when Harry was around now. Yet another sign pointing towards that thing that he didn't really want to think about at the moment –

"I said bugger off!" Ron snapped, feeling agitated at the gentle tapping on the carriage window. Yelling always helped relieve stress, at least. That was why his mum hadn't gone grey yet, or so dad said…

"Had a bad day already, then?" came a familiar voice. Ron's warning went unheeded as the door to the carriage squeaked open. Neville stepped inside, plopping down next to Hermione with a flustered look that reflected the general mood of the carriage already.

"Sorry," Ron said sheepishly.

"That's okay, mate."

There was a pause.

Neville rolled his eyes and leaned out the door again. "Luna, love, you coming inside?" he called.

They heard a wispy voice, also familiar, and there wasn't really much question as to who it belonged to. Whatever she was saying was muffled by the sound of rain and the carriage walls. However, they could hear Neville's end of the conversation just fine.

"No, sweetheart, they're fine…I'm sure they're well taken care of…They live in the forest, love, they always…Yeah, okay, just give it to him and come on…Well now _you're_ getting drenched too…Yeah, I'll ask about it when we get to the castle…I'm sure Hagrid wouldn't let that happen anyways…"

Harry snickered. Neville leaned out further from the carriage, only returning as he pulled yet another person inside. A person sporting a mane of sodden, dirty blonde hair.

"Hello," Luna said dreamily, smiling around at them all. She appeared completely unfazed by the weather, or how wet her robes were from the pouring rain. She hadn't even been wearing a cloak.

Mad as ever, yet still infinitely loveable.

Everyone greeted her as she sat down, placing herself incredibly close to Neville. Harry and Ron sent him knowing looks, to which the brunet blushed slightly. He looked incredibly pleased with himself nonetheless, almost absently taking her hand in his own. Ron was glad that at least someone was able to show affection without it being a big deal. It was then that he realized he and Harry were still technically holding hands as well.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all.

Hermione looked between the two couples and sighed. Ron had no idea what that was about. Was that a longing tone he heard in there? Was she already tired of the theatrics involved with their return to school? Whatever her reason, she remained quiet after that, gazing straight into the empty seat opposite her.

The carriage jolted into motion, apparently deciding that it was full enough to proceed. The wheels sloshed through the muddy path that led up to the front gate. Rain pattered on the roof overhead.

"So how was holiday, mate?" Harry asked, sounding slightly strained. He was clearly trying to avoid mentioning the giant elephant that had taken residence within the carriage.

"Good," Neville nodded. "Gran gave me a new broom, which was a nice surprise. Not that I can ride it worth a toss. I think she's still holding out hope that I'll become a national Quidditch player one day."

Ron laughed, despite Neville's self-depreciating comments. The bloke had way more confidence than he had last year, at least, no doubt due to their grand little stint in the ministry. He had been cursed and beaten by the Death Eaters to a great extent, but had also kicked a fair bit of arse there. Enough to be recognized by his grandmother again, so they heard.

"What model?" he asked. Neville had never really let on to how much wealth his grandmother actually harbored. Ron wondered what type of broom she could even afford, not that he really played into all that class-ranking stupidity. One's curiosity just couldn't be helped, sometimes…

"New Starlark that just came out last month," Neville answered plainly.

Apparently galleons weren't hard to come by for her, then. The Starlark had been on the cover of Quidditch Weekly not too long ago. It was placed just above the Comet series, dammit. And Neville wasn't even on the house team…

Not that he was jealous. Neville was a nice bloke, it was good that he got nice things from time to time. Ron just knew that, if he had ever owned a rememberall, he wouldn't have lost it so easily. Could buy a bloody house with those things, despite their near-uselessness.

"Wasn't that on Quidditch Weekly?" Harry said curiously. Ron felt a weird surge of pride in him. He had adapted well from being that kid who was raised by muggles in a sheltered environment, and instead moving onto Quidditch expert and captain of the house team.

"Yeah, it was pretty well-rated I suppose, and Gran wanted me to have a good one for practicing or something 'in case I felt the urge'. Told her thanks for it anyways, since it is pretty high-quality. They say it's real good for travel too if you want to go…"

Ron looked out the window, unable to pay attention any longer. All of the features he had already read about, and he knew he wasn't getting a bloody Starlark any time soon. Best not to linger on it. He had a perfectly good broom already.

The forest was visible out the window, pretty well considering how close it was to the path they were on. The tree trunks twisted and gnarled into different directions. No wonder people avoided that place. Aside from the Acromantula infestation, werewolf rumors, dangerous flora, and wild animals contained within, it was really dark and creepy. Something about it at night was revealed that you couldn't quite see in the day.

The thought of werewolves made Ron think of Lupin, of course. During holiday, when he had left in the morning he had apparently been off to rendezvous with the pack he had been secretly spying on for several months now. He supposedly left updates with Dumbledore every moment he could. Tracking their whereabouts, making sure they didn't kill, informing him of 'new recruits'. Those were apparently children who were bitten and dragged into the pack by force. Thinking of these things, of how bad some people had it in this war, made him realize just how small he was in all this. And how involved Harry was in comparison.

He was the one they hunted for constantly. Harry was their target, and had been for two years now. How did he sleep at night? How could he live knowing that the most dangerous wizard in the world wanted him dead?

And really, how could Ron sleep as well? He clearly cared for Harry, much more than he was admitting to even himself. If Harry died, or was taken, or was hurt in any way, how would that make him feel? Ron couldn't save Harry in some blazing glory thing. He couldn't take on all of the Death Eaters and rescue his boyfriend if something happened. He would attempt to in a heartbeat, but Ron knew it would never actually work. How could they laugh at jokes, eat food, live life so normally when, any second now, Harry could be whisked away and never seen again? Ron hated it. He hated that there were so many of them, that You-Know-Who was so powerful. He was completely helpless in protecting the boy he lo—

"Ron, you okay?" Harry muttered, shifting closer to him. Ron felt the hand twined with his squeeze slightly, punctuating the sentence.

"Yeah," he sighed. He felt slightly nauseous.

"It'll be okay, you know," Harry reassured him. He didn't sound too convincing, though, since his voice had a strange tone to it. It sounded like he would rather admit that the Canons were the best team in the league than admit everything was okay.

And that was all Harry was worrying about. No You-Know-Who, no murderous Death Eaters sent out to collect him, no fear of being captured or tortured or murdered. All he was concerned with right now was yet another problem atop the mountain that was Harry's troubles. He was just a scared boy, afraid of what his fellow peers would think about who he liked and didn't like. It all seemed so stupid and trivial. So pointless in a sea of worries.

Ron sucked in a breath and squeezed back.

"Yeah. It will."

* * *

><p>When they entered the hall, there was the expected reactions. It may seem to some outsider that Harry always made some sort of grand entrance at the beginning of each term, but that wasn't even his fault. Everyone else gave that illusion by whispering excitedly when he came in. Couldn't the guy just walk through a bloody door without having a chorus of voices following him?<p>

Ron scowled and dragged him along, still clutching firmly to his hand. He didn't bloody care anymore, let them see. Holding hands was better than wildly snogging in front of them, which they had already seen no doubt in the papers anyways.

He chanced a glance up at the staff table as they veered around to the Gryffindor side, and saw Dumbledore looking right back. His bright blue eyes were twinkling. He was clearly enjoying watching everyone scramble over this. Ron only hoped that he would start to enjoy it too, eventually.

McGonagall was pursing her lips at the whispering students, looking highly disapproving. Snape was scowling per usual. Ron hadn't expected that to change for anything, really. He either disapproved of the situation, thus hating Harry more, or he kept the same level of loathing he usually did.

As they made their way, Harry walked quietly along behind him, sticking close. Ron could tell he was blushing profusely, with those adorable green eyes downcast. He was clearly trying not to look embarrassed, but that had always been hard for him when receiving such attention. Ron scoffed under his breath.

Everyone was staring. Everyone was talking. And everyone was pissing him off.

"Fucking wankers," he muttered, finding a place for them to sit down. The benches had a fair few gaps, with more carriages still trundling along up to the school, so it wasn't hard.

He sat down, closely followed by Harry, and finally let go of his hand. Hermione sat opposite them, looking a bit tense herself. A section of the Slytherin table had broken out in laughter, and Harry's gaze flitted up to them instead. His face darkened.

"Ugh…" he groaned, leaning forward on his elbows. "I bet they're having a ruddy good time with all this."

"Just ignore them, Harry," Hermione muttered to him quietly. "It's not like their opinions are worth anything anyways. They never have been."

"No, but you've seen the things they've been spewing," he said into his hands. "I have not sucked Ron off in the loo, but everyone's gonna think I did now!"

Hermione's eyes widened considerably. Her hand was stilled mid-reach for a serving of potatoes.

Ron looked around curiously. It was true, people seemed to believe the wild comments more than one would think. Some of the other students were casting glances their way to varying degrees of humor, fear, and disgust. A fair few of them were simply talking amongst themselves, however. He couldn't tell exactly how much hassle they would have walking through the hall in the morning, or how many insults would be thrown their way. Ron had never heard of any other same-sex couples that had this much publicity before while they were still in school, since most people didn't come out so blatantly on the front page of the most consumed wizarding newspaper. But, maybe if so many people were aware, there would also be a lot more people willing to come to their defense? Ron could only hope. He didn't know if he could go very long without punching someone in the mouth, wand or no.

Harry sighed beside him, still ducking but otherwise uncovering his face. At least he seemed to have an appetite still, because he reached for the sausages without another word.

They ate, trying to ignore the constant whispering from their own table. It echoed around them, but Ron refused to actually listen to what they were saying. Good Merlin, someone needed to start a topic soon though or he was going to go insane. Fortunately, someone plopped down next to them, and their greeting was friendly.

"Hi all," Dean said. His smile was genuine and unassuming.

"Hey," Ron answered heavily as Seamus sat right next to him. His cheeks were slightly pink, no doubt due to the cold outside. "You still associating with us, then?"

"Of course," he scoffed, as if it were obvious. "Why wouldn't we?"

"For obvious reasons," Harry said moodily. "You have read the prophet recently, haven't you?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "Can't say I wasn't shocked. But I don't think anyone should be ashamed to date anyone they want. Right mate?" he nudged Seamus on the elbow.

Ron could have sworn he saw his cheeks grow a single shade darker as he nodded and said "Yeah."

"We'll stay with you tossers no matter what. Unless you lose next week's match, obviously," Dean added cheekily.

"Oh yeah!" Neville said from beside Hermione. He leaned around her enthusiastically as she rolled her eyes. Quidditch was never her favorite topic. "Think you'll do good, Harry?"

Ron looked over to see a slightly bemused expression on his face. If what was going on in his head was any correlation to Ron's, he had probably forgotten about the match as well. In all fairness, it wasn't as though they had been lolligagging the entire break from school...

"Yeah, we can only hope," Harry said, appearing to snap out of his trance. He seemed grateful for the change in topic, at least. "Unless Hufflepuff's new Seeker can get the drop on me, which is always a possibility."

Ron snorted. "Yeah right."

Harry shook his head, frowning. "We forgot to practice during break. Plus there could be a storm, and with my glasses there's always a - "

"Oh come on, we played loads in the orchard," Ron argued. "Your glasses never slowed you down before, either."

"That wasn't really Seeker practice though..." Harry said warily.

"Sure it was. Gorgovitch," Ron added in a mumble, enjoying the slight blush that briefly made its way across Harry's face. "Plus, you're amazing. It'll be fine."

"Aww," Neville said mockingly. "This is bloody precious."

"Shut up," Ron retorted, definitely not feeling embarrassed one bit.

* * *

><p>Aside from that, dinner passed with a sense of feigned normalcy. They made their way back to the common room in their usual group, not encountering any nasty comments. Ron could only hope that it would remain like this once people had a day to let everything sink in. Perhaps he had been right. Perhaps they were just paranoid and it wouldn't really be that bad?<p>

They made their way up the spiral staircase and up to the dorms.

"Be bloody glad to turn in," Harry said heavily. "I reckon we'll need all the energy we can get tomorrow, what with the possibility of having to dodge objects being chucked at us."

"I doubt that'll happen," Ron said bluntly. He pushed open the door to the sixth-year boys' dorm, leading the way inside. "Though I do think bed sounds bloody love – "

He paused, seeing only four beds in the room.

"– ly."

"What happened?" Harry asked, sounding immensely confused.

They entered, the other boys close behind, examining the change in furniture arrangements. Ron had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. As his eyes scanned the room, sure enough, he saw the trunks marked with each of their initials.

Everyone except his own.

"This better be a fucking joke," Ron said, feeling all the weight of the day's troubles come crashing down on him at once. The timing of his sleeping arrangements having possibly been changed could only mean one thing, could only be because of recent events. Events currently running around in the wizarding media, where they didn't ruddy belong…

"Oh no," Harry said, sounding worn. Ron clenched his fists.

"They have no bloody right," he snarled, looking around yet again as though he could have misplaced his bed somewhere. "_No right_ to do this. It best be a joke, because I will literally flip the bloody hell out – "

The sound of the door creaking open again made them all turn around. Professor McGonagall was standing there, looking slightly less stern than usual. Was that pity in her expression?

"What's all this?" Ron said, gesturing at the obvious disruption of their sleeping quarters.

"Mr. Weasley I suggest we talk about this. Alone," she gave a pointed look to everyone else.

"I reckon we can talk about it _here_," Ron said moodily. "Where everyone can know what the bloody hell is going on!"

Her gaze narrowed, and she pursed her lips.

"It appears that, due to current circumstances, some of the parents would wish that the two of you be separated – "

"_What?!"_ Ron said, and he heard his voice echoed by Harry and the others.

" – in your sleeping arrangements," she finished. Her voice held the usual severity, yet softened in that weird pitying way yet again. She didn't seem to approve, or appreciate being the messenger for this particular news.

Which changed nothing, in Ron's opinion.

"Who's parents?" Ron shot, feeling slightly betrayed. He had thought, what with Dean being the last of the boys to graciously accept their relationship for what it was, this wouldn't have been a problem. Who's guardian had requested they sleep in different rooms?

"No one in this particular dorm," she said reassuringly. "But other parents had expressed concerns at having an…obviously romantically involved pair boarding together. Which is somewhat understandable, in a sense."

"Like hell!" he raged, feeling her words sting even worse. Having her disapprove almost felt as if his own mother had cast him out. "You can't tell me we're the only ones who've slept near each other while dating! It isn't right, this is bollocks, and everyone bloody well knows it!"

"I'm not communicating displeasure at your choice in relationship, Weasley," she said, reverting back to her crisp demeanor at the drop of a hat. "As far as I'm concerned, you're entitled to make your own decisions in that matter, and I wouldn't look upon you any differently. The school must simply accommodate for the amount of inquiries regarding your sleeping arrangements…no matter how ridiculous the violation of student privacy may be…" she added under her breath. She looked sympathetically at them this time, including Harry as well. "We cannot simply ignore the amount of input the parents wish to put on the situation. It did, respectably, bring up the issue to the staff, and we did agree that the rules _do _state, technically, that no one may 'cohabitate' within the dorms."

Ron stared, fuming.

"People _wrote in_?" Harry said slowly, sounding horrified. "You had a meeting about it and…and decided on these things?"

Ron felt his chest constrict at the slightly broken tone to his voice. He was upset that so many people had felt the need to insist on them separating. So many people knew what they did at night, could guess that they were physically involved, had thought about the fact that they may want to snog or have bloody sex if they wanted to.

But what about the nights when Ron would simply want to bunk in Harry's bed for the hell of it? Sure, they went at it sometimes, they were young and stupid and randy for it. But it wasn't only Harry's arse that he was interested in. During holiday, Ron had grown accustomed to feeling a warm body curled up against his in the night. He had fallen asleep to a bare arm draped over his chest, or jet-black hair between his fingers, and had woken up to soft mumbles breathed into the crook of his neck. He had felt skin nestled against skin in non-sexual ways, with an instinct to be as close as he possibly could to the body beside him. The body that made Ron feel more at home than ever. He had wrapped his arms around a strong chest, felt legs twine with his own to share body heat when the blanket wasn't enough, and had tangled their fingers together as they fell asleep just because he could. The thought that all of it would be ripped away from him so quickly made a lump form in his throat.

But the look on Harry's face made him feel worst of all.

"I'm sorry, Potter," she said, somewhat reluctantly. "You know how inappropriate it is to have the two of you together. _Any _couple, not just yourselves, would have similar circumstances. There is a reason the girl's dorms are warded against you. This isn't us attempting to partake in the questionable prejudice about this particular situation. This is the school simply using a professional approach to a controversial circumstance. Because, while sometimes it may seem otherwise, this _is_ in fact still a school, and you are here to learn with as few distractions as possible."

"But this is ridiculous," Neville said bravely, gesturing at nothing in particular. "We don't mind if they stay together. Do we?"

There was murmured consent and indignation all around, which made him feel a bit better.

"I'm sorry, Longbottom, but this is our only option. If I could change it and put everyone at ease, I would," she said, frowning. "But the facts simply are that being together is inappropriate, and I somewhat agree with that particular position. It would be unorthodox with any pair of romantically involved students to allow them to sleep in such close proximity. The temptations for…well…" she gave a microscopic grimace, which Ron didn't think he had ever really seen from her before, "would be there."

"But…this is – " Ron felt himself blushing slightly, knowing that McGonagall was trying not to contemplate their sex life, but still he argued. "It's only because people are bringing attention to it, isn't it?!"

She sighed. "Perhaps, but the reasons still stand, Weasley. It simply isn't allowed, and is possibly best for the two of you at such a young age regardless."

Ron snarled, crossing his arms. He had been so used to his parents and their shocking open-mindedness, he had forgotten what other adults were like. He thanked Merlin that his parents weren't as prudish as the rest of the world.

"Weasley, you'll be sleeping in the seventh year boys' dorm instead. Your things have been brought up and arranged accordingly. I've had words with them, and they're aware of the change. Other than that, there's not much else I can do…"

"Yeah, right," Ron muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. He glared at the floor, feeling betrayed. "You're just like the rest of them."

She paused, and Ron was unsure if she had even heard it. With a final sigh, she left, nodding in farewell.

"Unbelievable," Neville said, shaking his head. "The nerve of some people."

"That's a pure dose, mate," Seamus added. "They shouldn't be able to do that shite."

"Well apparently they can," Ron sighed. He looked over at Harry, who was frowning unhappily. "You okay?"

Harry nodded, looking tired. "I was just wondering when things would turn to hell…"

"Maybe this is the worst of it," Ron said, walking over and pulling him into a hug. He didn't much care if anyone was watching, he needed it as much as Harry probably did.

He nodded again, hugging back.

"I guess…I'll see you in the morning," Harry sighed into Ron's neck. He felt the arms around him clench a bit tighter before letting go again, but not before a lingering kiss was placed in his hair. He returned it, pulling away finally.

"See you tomorrow," he said, trying not to sound as disappointed as he felt. After today, he could have used a good amount of sleep. But without Harry, he didn't even know if he could anymore.

* * *

><p>He couldn't.<p>

It was horrible, and it had only been ten minutes. Ron was confined in his newly located four-poster, curtains drawn and eyes shut, after having prepared for bed the fastest he had ever done in his life.

Upon entering his new sleeping quarters, he had gotten a few looks of disdain and the rest were uncaring glances. There were six other boys besides himself, which was undoubtedly why the room was considerably bigger than his old dorm room. Plus, it must have been expanded for his own arrival as well, now that he thought about it. But his belongings were there, and his bed was warmed, so it wasn't all bad he supposed.

Until he walked across the room.

"Reckon he'll try to molest one of us?" one of the rather muscular seventh years said. He had at least made an attempt to quiet his voice as his friend sniggered beside him, but that hadn't stopped it from echoing through the room.

Ron sighed and unpacked his pyjamas. Worse yet, there were more surprises.

"Hey Weasley, fancy seeing you here?"

Ron closed his eyes, setting the clothes down on his bed and hoping dearly that the voice didn't belong to who he thought it did. But of course, logic told him what he had clearly forgotten, and the facts came rushing to him unpleasantly sound.

Cormac McLaggen was, in fact, a seventh year Gryffindor. Ron had been blissfully unaware of his presence for so long that he forgot the bloke even existed. Unfortunately, he would no doubt be seeing a lot more of the guy since they were now living together.

This was hell.

So Ron lay there, buried beneath his covers, hiding from the horrid day that had plagued him for so long. He had thought several times that this, perhaps this time, it couldn't get any worse. Yet each event had been followed by something even more unpleasant to endure. Perhaps now fate had punished him enough. Perhaps he was miserable to the extent that the universe wanted him to be. After a morning of pushy reporters following them to observe their sin. After a train ride where their enemy had sought them out to jeer at them. Followed by a dinner where they had been put on display for their fellow students to gawk at. And now here, in this dorm with these older boys who taunted him. Where he was alone and hidden away because the wizarding world didn't want him to be in close proximity to someone he loved.

And that was probably the worst part of today. The fact that just now, when his bed felt so cold despite the warmers in the sheets, that he realized why he was ultimately so miserable. Because he didn't have that warm body he had grown so accustomed to. Because he couldn't kiss that adorable nose, or ruffle that messy black hair, or see those bright green eyes slowly drift shut as they lulled each other to sleep.

Because he knew he loved Harry, and it hurt so much worse.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> So hey, winter break. No classes. Look for chapters.

Oh I also have a tumblr that is linked through my author's page. Just click on my penname and it's there. Ask me questions in the askbox if you want, yo, because I actually will answer them.


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